


The Dragonborn Comes

by Lil_Lycanthropy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn - Freeform, Dragons, F/M, It's all the characters I ever meet, M/M, Other, Self-Insert, This is a shitty self-indulgent self-insert, Violence, also I'm so original with the title wow, and any race, but I'm trying to keep it as general as possible, however, i'm playing as a male khajiit so that might bleed into it a little bit, oh the dragonborn is gender neutral, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-06-06 23:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 34,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Lycanthropy/pseuds/Lil_Lycanthropy
Summary: "A pounding headache and the soft nickering of horses woke you up, and you squinted at the light streaming into your eyes. You glanced around blearily, noticing several other people with bound hands in a carriage, one with a gag over his mouth.Why were they all here? What did they do? Who were they?Who were you?"





	1. Unbound

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah this is mostly for me. But y'all can read it. it's essentially a playthrough for Skyrim. These are my experiences and the choices I've made within the game. For anyone who actually reads this, I hope you enjoy!

A pounding headache and the soft nickering of horses woke you up, and you squinted at the light streaming into your eyes. You glanced around blearily, noticing several other people with bound hands in a carriage, one with a gag over his mouth.

Why were they all here? What did they do? Who were they?

Who were you?

“Ah! So they finally join us in the land of the living. You get caught by that damned Imperial ambush too, friend?”

You looked at the person speaking to you—a blond Nord, it seemed—and blinked at him in confusion. 

A person, dressed in ragged robes, began muttering. “Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was doing perfectly fine under the Empire. Nice and lazy.” He jerked his bound hands in your general direction. “You and me? We shouldn’t be here. It’s these damned Stormcloaks the Empire wants, not us.”

The blond one cut him off. “Enough, thief! We are all brothers and sisters in binds now.”

“Shut up back there!” one of the Imperial officers from the head of the carriage barked.

“Watch who you are speaking to, dog,” the prisoner in in the blue cuirass said. “This is Ulfric Stormcloak, the rightful High King!”

“Ulfric Stormckoak?” the thief said. “Jarl of Windhelm? Leader of the rebellion? But if they captured you...By the nine, where are the taking us?”

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits...”

The small caravan approached a gate, which promptly opened. 

“General Tullius!” a guard shouted. “The headsman is waiting!”

The thief began chanting strange names as though in prayer, his panicky demeanour setting you on edge as well. Headsman? What had you done to deserve a headsman?

The blond Nord interrupted your thoughts. “This is Helgen,” he said wistfully. “I was sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if she is still making that mead with the juniper berries...”

A child’s voice made its way to your ears. “Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?”

“Go inside.”  
  
“I wanna watch the soldiers!”

“Inside. Now.

“Yes, papa.”  


“Whoa,” soldier at the head of the carriage said, slowing down the horses.

“What? Why are we stopping?” the thief said.

“Why do you think? End of the line.”

The carriage stopped, and the prisoners all began trudging off, so you joined.

“Wait, we’re not rebels!” the thief protested. “This is a mistake!”

“Come forward to the block when we call your name.”

“Empire loves their damned lists...” the Nord said.

The soldier reading the list called Ulfric forward, then Ralof, who turned out to be the blond Nord, and when he got to Lokir, the thief, he made a break for it.

Lokir was quickly shot down by the arrows of Imperial soldiers.

“Anyone else feel like running?” the captain of the guard shouted.

“Wait—you there...you’re not on my list. Who are you?”

“(Y/N).”

“Captain, they’re not on the list. What should we do?”

“I don’t care about your list, Hadvar. To the chopping block with the lot of ‘em.”

Hadvar turned to you. “I’m sorry...Captain’s orders. Over there, prisoner.”

You followed the captain over to where the rest of the prisoners were standing around, awaiting their fate.

“Ulfric Stormcloak...” the General began. “Some in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp the throne. You started this war and plunged Skyrim into chaos. Now it’s time for the Empire to put you down, and restore the peace in Skyrim!”

The General was cut off by a deafening roar echoing through the mountains.

“What in Oblivion was that?” someone behind you asked.

“It’s nothing. Carry on,” said the General.

“Yes, General Tullius!”

A priestess began reciting the last rites for all the prisoners, but a prisoner just said, “For the love of Talos, shut up!” and stepped up to the block.

“Any final words?”

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

And the headsman freed his head from his shoulders with one swift blow from the axe.

“As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof murmured.

“Next...you, prisoner!” the captain said, pointing directly at you.

Another roar broke through the sky.

“There it is again...what is that?”

Nevertheless, the Imperials seemed eager to get the whole event over with. “Step up!”

You walked forward, realizing this was your last day and you had spent it waking up with no memories and watching people get beheaded. Not exactly a glorious end. 

But then again, it’s not like you were a hero.

You stepped up to the block, knelt down, and rested your head on the bloodied stone. The head of the Stormcloak had fallen into a little bucket, the smell of blood pouring into your nostrils.

You turned your head to look at the executioner, when you saw something you didn’t know was possible.

A black dragon with piercing red glared down at you and shouted something in a language so ancient and powerful your head became fuzzy. You stumbled away from the headsman, who had fallen in shock.

“C’mon, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof shouted at you, and you made your way over to him.

He rushed forward into a tower, Ulfric quickly following behind. 

Inside, there were several wounded Stormcloak rebels being tended to by someone who looked strikingly similar to Ralof. 

“Could the legends be true?” Ralof panted.

“Legends don’t burn down villages,” Ulfric responde, finally free of the gag.

“By the gods...what do we do?”

Ulfric just shook his head solemnly.

Ralof steeled his face. “Very well. You there, (Y/N). Come with me if you wish to survive.”  
  
You followed him up the stairs, a little unsteady from your bound hands.

Suddenly, a great explosion rocked the tower and a chunk of wall burst inwards, feet away from your face. The dragon was situated just outside, and breathed in a column of fire for good measure.

As quick as he came, he was gone, launching off into the air.

You stood on the edge, looking out of the broken tower.

“You have to jump to the roof of that inn—I’ll meet you at the bottom!”

Disregarding anything you knew about safety—which wasn’t a whole lot—you jumped out of the building and landed with a thud through the roof of the inn.

You leapt down to the ground, spotting Hadvar.

“Come with me, prisoner! Stay close. Today’s your lucky day!”

You followed Hadvar through a maze of burned houses, your stomach turning at the sight of charred bodies on the floor. The air smelled like venison roast, which put you off deer for life.

The dragon showed up again, landing on an old stone wall. 

“Stay close to the wall!” Hadvar shouted.

You pressed your back against the cold stone, which quickly came alive with heat as the dragon blew more fire. He pushed his back legs off the wall, returning to the air and sending chunks of rock raining down on you.

You continued on, spotting Ralof by the keep.

“Come with me, into the keep!”  


“You do that, you turn your back on the Empire forever, prisoner.”

Making a split second decision, you turned your back on Hadvar and headed into the keep with Ralof.

* * *

“So, let’s see if we can get those hands of yours unbound.”

Ralof grabbed the dagger of another Stormcloak you met—Gunjar, you believed—and cut your hands free.

“Thank you,” you said, rubbing your sore wrists.

“Yeah. Anyway, how’re we gonna get out of here?”

You looked around. There was a wooden gate which couldn’t be opened from this side, and a metal gate that you found out was locked when you tested it.

You shrugged.

Ralof looked deep in thought, then his eyes narrowed. “Imperials!” he whispered. “Get down!”  


You hid behind the wall beside the gate, weapon at the ready.

Three Imperials burst through the gate, blood and burns covering their bodies.

Ralof sprung into action, and you followed his lead, letting out a guttural war cry. The fight was quick, even though you had shitty weapons. The Imperials were taken care of, but not without a casualty.

“We’ll meet again in Sovngarde, brother...” Ralof said over the body of Gunjar.

After searching through the bodies of the Imperials, you found a key and unlocked the gate. The door swung open, and you quickly went through.

You and Ralof made your way through the keep, fighting whatever Imperials you found and looting the chests and cupboards. At one point, you came across a sleeping bear, and Ralof said he would follow your lead. You pulled out a bow and a few arrows you found, and took down the beast in three shots.

“Sneaking is for cowards, eh?” Ralof said as you slung your bow across your back.

You continued on, finally reaching the end of the underground escape route.

“Thank the gods, I think this is it!” Ralof said as you entered Skyrim again.

“What do we do now?” you said, wondering what the next course of action was.

“I think it’s safer to split up right now.”  
  
You nodded, slightly disappointed. Nothing like a near-death experience to bring two people closer together. Already, you felt a special bond with this “Ralof”.

“Meet my sister, Gerdur, in Riverwood. I will see you there.”


	2. Riverwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo two chapters in one day!

Once you made your way to Riverwood, you met a blond fellow by the name of Sven. He struck up a conversation with you, which quickly turned to a lovely lass by the name of Camilla Valerius. 

“She is quite the beauty. There is, however, a slight problem,”Sven said. “There’s this dark elf—Faendal.” He spat out the name like venom. “They hang around the inn all the time, and even though she thinks of him as little more than a friend, you can see how I can be worried, right?”

You nodded, completely uninterested in his love affairs.

“Say, maybe you could do me a favour?”  


Squinting suspiciously, you nodded your head again.

“Deliver this letter to her for me, and say it’s from Faendal. It has some rather unsavoury things written in it, which will ensure she will go for me instead of him.”

You silently took the letter.

“Thank you! Now, I must be on my way.”

Wandering around the small town quickly became boring. Eventually, you found a dark elf hanging around by the Riverwood Trader.

“Excuse me, do you happen to be Faendal?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered politely, if not a little confused. “What can I do for you?”

You took a deep breath, realizing you were about to betray one of the only people who had shown even a slight interest in you. “Sven told me to deliver this letter to Camilla Valerius, and to say that it’s from you.”

You handed him the parchment, and his eyes widened as he read over it. “This...Sven, that bastard! Fine, if that’s how he wants to play, I’ll join in the game.” Faendal quickly pulled a piece of parchment out from his satchel and raced towards what could only be his house. You hesitantly followed him, trying to keep up with the dark elf’s relentless pace.

As soon as he got to the door, he flung it open and made his way to a candlelit table. He quickly scrawled something down, and five minutes later, he handed you a surprisingly neat new letter. 

“Here,” he said. “Give this to Camilla. Tell her it’s from Sven.”  


Not wanting to get involved, but already invested at this point, you took the letter.

“And,” he added. “Thank you. For informing me.”

You smiled at him. “Not a problem,” you said.

“You can probably find her at the Riverwood Trader. It’s just past the smith. I’m in your debt.” 

Pocketing the fresh parchment, you went on your way to the smith.

* * *

“Need a blade?”

You approached the smith, happily hammering away at something on a workbench.

“Name’s Alvor.”

“(Y/N). Do you need any help around the forge?”

“Sure! Why don't you try making an iron dagger—those are always in popular demand. Here’s all the materials you’ll need,” he replied, dumping an iron ingot and some leather strips into your hand.

You worked with him for a couple hours, finally making a tempered iron dagger and a small hide helmet.

“Thank you, but I must be going now,” you said when it started to get dark.

“No problem. With some practice, you have the makings of a fine smith one day. Here, why don’t you keep these two things you’ve made?”

Smiling, you suddenly remembered the whole reason you had come to Riverwood.

_Shit._

“Thank you. I have to go.” And with that, you headed to the mill to find Gerdur.

* * *

Wandering behind the smith led you to the mill, where you spotted a familiar face.

“Ralof!” you shouted.

“(Y/N)! You made it!” 

You embraced, then pulled back with a grin. It was then you noticed another Nord woman who looked very similar to Ralof.

“I take it you’re Gerdur?” you said.

“Yes. I heard what happened in Helgen. Is it true?”  


You nodded solemnly, remembering the horrible roaring of the dragon as it burned down the village, and shuddered.

“I believe you. Who knows what’ll be next? We must get reinforcements from Whiterun in case the dragon attacks here! Do you think you could deliver the news to Jarl Balrgruuf in Whiterun, and ask for his aid?”

“Of course.” You nodded—but there was one thing you had to do first.

* * *

 Inside the trading building, you walked right into an argument.

“I don’t see why you won’t just let me get the damned thing back!”

“Enough of this! We have a customer!”

They both turned to you, the woman with fire in her eyes.

“Uh, that’s alright. I can come back another time...?”

“No, it’s fine,” the man said. “It’s just...we’ve had a bit of a problem with thieves. They stole something very important—our prized ornament of the store. A golden decoration in the shape of a dragon’s claw.”

A golden dragon’s claw? Could that be a coincidence that it would go missing just when a dragon attacked Helgen?

Or was something bigger happening?

Either way, something inside you compelled you to say, “I could retrieve it for you.”

“Really? That would be wonderful! Thank you!” the storeowner said.

“Allow me to show you where to go,” the woman said.

“Camilla, I said no!”

“Just to the edge of town!”  


“...Fine.”

* * *

Once you were outside, you pulled out the letter. “Are you Camilla Valerius?”

“Yes?”

You had to make a decision. You could tell the truth, that Feandal had sent the letter and wanted it to look like Sven had given it to her. Or, you could go along with the lie.

You decided to lie. Some part of you trusted Faendal, and you didn’t really like the possessive way Sven had talked about Camilla.

“This is from Sven,” you said, handing her the letter.

“Really?” She excitedly tore through the wax seal and her eyes scanned the letter as you passed the light of the wall sconces. Her expression dropped from sadness to fury as she read. “That bastard...how dare he! If he thinks I’m going to be like a second mother, only cooking and cleaning and bending over backwards for him, he is sorely mistaken!”

Doing your best to keep a straight face, you agreed and walked to the edge of town.


	3. Anise's Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters, one day??? Who am I???

As it was getting dark, you decided you could use some rest. After all, it had been a rather... _exciting_ day.

You made your way through the forest, hoping to find an inn or even a small camp. At this point, you’d settle for a soft bed of grass rather than the wet, muddy river.

The Divines smiled down on you as you approached a cabin. It was close enough to Riverwood that the inhabitant could still get supplies, but definitely far enough away that they could enjoy their solitude.

You were going to knock, but you realized they might not want to be bothered by a stranger in the middle of the night.

So you did what any sensible person would do, and snuck into their cellar.

As you snuck past the sleeping form of what looked like a sweet old lady, you picked the lock to the cellar and climbed down.

Inside, you realized you might’ve been wrong to assume she was a innocent old lady. While she was definitely still an old lady, maybe 'harmless' wouldn’t be the proper word to describe her. 

In the cellar was a collection of ingredients, likely used for alchemy. With the way there were vials laying around labelled “DANGEROUS”, you didn’t hold out any hope that it was just a fun hobby or a necessity. What really disturbed you was the arcane enchanter. You had never seen one with your own eyes, and the glowing blue light made you feel queasy. You knew she wasn’t using it for good.

Snooping around some more, you spotted an unfinished letter sitting on the long wooden table against the wall. Picking it up, you read:  


_“Helgi, dear, why do you hesitate? You can feel the power coursing in your blood! You have only to reach out and grasp it! Renounce that boy of yours and come, come to live with me in the forest. My sister will be here soon. Together, we can form a proper coven, and your training will truly begin.”_

A coven? That would make the woman...

A witch.

You had walked right into the lair of a witch.

Deciding you’d had enough, and that it would be easier to just find another, less deadly place to sleep, you climbed up the ladder and opened the cellar door.

She was waiting for you when you opened the door.

“Fool! No one may know my secret!” she shrieked, flinging out her hand and trying to summon, well, something she never got the chance to finish because you lunged forward and thrust your new iron dagger into her throat.

You decided that was enough adventuring for one day. You took off your armour, settled into her bed, her bloodied body lying feet away.


	4. The Golden Claw

After a night of tossing and turning, you headed up the mountain to Bleak Falls Barrow.

It was an arduous trek up the mountain, but you made it, sweating heavily under your armour. You entered through the absolutely ancient looking door, instantly being greeted by several bandits and a couple dead skeevers. You quickly dispatched them, looking around for any spare gold—you were, after all, completely broke.

On the way deeper into the cave, you met several bandits —who were easily defeated by your iron warhammer or longbow—but things started to take a turn for the worse when you encountered spiderwebs.

You cut your way through the webs into a cavern, where you spotted a figure trapped in the webs

Before you could get across the room, a gargantuan spider fell from the ceiling and landed in front of you. Several of its long, hairy limbs were missing, which you noticed right as it lunged for you.

Picking up a discarded sword from who knows how long ago, you stabbed it between its eight beady eyes, and it thunked to the floor.

“Ey, stranger! Over here!” 

You walked over to the dark elf. 

“Please, help me, I’ve been stuck here for ages! You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re here.”  
  
“Are you the one that stole the golden claw?”

He blinked at you. “Yes, but I’ll give it back if you let me loose!”

“Where is it?”  


“Cut me loose and I’ll give it to you.”

Sighing heavily as your patience wore thin, you cut the dark elf free. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Name’s Arvel. Now, let me just—" He lunged at you, but you blocked him—it wasn’t hard to predict a betrayal from a thief who utilized the aid of bandits.

He turned and fled, pulling out a large object made entirely of gold—the golden claw. You raced after him, noticing bodies surrounding you.

This must’ve been an ancient Nord burial site.

You pushed on, eager to catch up to the elf, but he was so damn quick on those spindly little legs.

In fact, the only reason you caught up to him was because he had caught the attention of something else.

A draugr.

He was fighting the undead warrior, and losing. You snuck up behind him, and slipped your knife into his back. He began gurgling as blood filled his insides, and you quickly took care of the draugr as it turned its attention to you. Three hits, and the light went from its glowing eyes.

You picked the claw from Arvel’s twitching hands, and continued your way through the crypt, getting a little beat up from the draugrs, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

Eventually, you made your way to a hall which had curious murals etched into it. You tried to follow the story—something about dragons.

There they were again.

You walked until you reached the end of the hall, where a door awaited you. There was some kind of combination, and three holes that matched up those of the claw.

You pushed the claw into the hole. 

Nothing happened.

Scratching your bruised head, you took a closer look at the claw. On it were three symbols—a bear, a moth, and an owl. You set the combination in order, then tried the claw.

This time, the door slowly creaked and sank into the floor.

You walked into the secret room, where there was a lone tomb and a large, curved wall with mysterious markings all over it. One glowed blue, and you walked up to it. Blue wisps of energy surrounded you, and you felt like your mind was physically expanding. You clutched your head, already sore from a draugr’s sword handle, but soon enough, everything was quiet again.

Just as you were about to leave, the tomb busted open.

A draugr overlord stepped out slowly, and in its moment of vulnerability, you decided to attack. This one was definitely harder to kill than the draugrs in the rest of the tomb, and you had to drink a healing potion to give you the strength to go on and heal some of your minor wounds.

The draugr fell to the blows of your warhammer. 

As you searched it for loot, you discovered something even stranger than everything you’d already encountered—a stone tablet of what looked like a map of Skyrim, with various locations marked off. 

You put the tablet in your bag, just in case you needed it later. You were sure it would come in handy at some point.

Looting the chest, you walked away and discovered a secret exit that led back to the room you had first started in. You jumped off the ledge and went back outside, grateful to feel the fresh Skyrim air in your lungs again.

* * *

The journey back to Lucan was uneventful, and he thanked you profusely when you returned the claw to him. You hoped you wouldn’t need it anytime soon, but maybe he would let you borrow it if you did...

Either way, you waved him goodbye and started your new mission—go to Whiterun and alert the Jarl of the imminent threat.


	5. Meeting the Companions

As you jumped a ridge, you spotted a peculiar sight near one of the local farms.

A giant was wreaking havoc on the farm, hurling a cow in your general direction as a group of warriors attempted o subdue it.

You ducked just as the cow landed several feet behind you, crunching as it landed and creating a crater in the ground. You rushed over, seeing all its broken limbs—several of which had bones sticking out of them—and decided to put it out of its misery with the iron dagger you had made.

Standing up and wiping the blood from the dagger onto the edge of your tunic that was sticking out from underneath your armour, you ran towards the fight.

The giant stomped down, narrowly missing one of the warriors—a brunet Nord with a steel greatsword, who hacked off some of the giant’s toes. You ran past a ginger woman (in some of the most impractical armour you’d ever seen) shooting arrows at the giant, successfully landing a shot right in its nose.

You let out a war cry as you landed a hit right at its kneecap, which you barely came up up to, and the giant toppled over with bellow of rage and pain. Its face soon made the acquaintance of your warhammer, and, with the help of the other warriors, you took it down. 

Once you were finished, you sat down to clean of your warhammer —already, it had become your favourite weapon, and you didn’t want it to rust.

The Nord walked up to you.

“Hey, you—have you ever thought of joining the companions?”

“The companions?” you said, confused.

“We’re a group of warriors. And, judging from the way you took on that giant, you’d fit in just great.”

You stood up to your full height and stuck out your hand.

“(Y/N),” you said.

He grabbed your hand with a grip of steel. “Farkas. That’s Aela, and that's Ria. So, what do you think?”

Thinking carefully for several moments, you nodded your head, and Farkas smiled. “Head up to Jorrvaskr—it’s right beside Dragonsreach. You can’t miss it.”  


Something stirred inside you, and you elected to ignore it. 

Instead, you followed Farkas’s advice and headed up the three million steps to Whiterun.

Just as you passed the stables, you spotted a Khajiit sitting in a tent, with various items and the smell of smoke surrounding him.

“Khajiit has wares if you have coin,” he said in a thick accent.

You traded for a little while, stocking up on some health potions and getting rid of some random shit you had picked up at Bleak Falls Barrow, including a couple gems and old swords.

“Would you care for secret wares?” he asked once you were about to leave.

Uncertainly nodding your head, you cautiously held out your hand where he dropped a dark purple vial into it.

Reading the label, you found out it was skooma.   


Now, you had heard of Skooma—who didn’t have a cousin who was addicted to the stuff—but you weren’t so fond of the stereotype that Khajiit were only good for it. It upset you a little bit that he was contributing to the bad reputation Khajiit had around Skyrim, but you supposed he needed to sell it to survive.

Handing him some coin, you headed up to the large wooden doors of the city of Whiterun.

You tried the doors, but they were locked.

“No entry,” a guard said.

“I have urgent business,” you pleaded. “I have news of Helgen.”

The guards eyes widened where you could see them through the slits of his helmet.

“Shh, keep your voice down! Are you trying to stir everyone into a panic?”

“I must alert the Jarl. Riverwood calls for reinforcements in the event of an attack.”

“Very well. You may enter.”

And with that, the guard opened the doors and you beheld the glorious city of Whiterun.


	6. Whiterun

Inside of Whiterun, you immediately met Adrianne, the local smith—one of two, you found out. Striking up a conversation, you discovered her father worked for the Jarl up in Dragonsreach.

“It’s a shame, I haven’t seen him in a while. Been meaning to deliver a sword to him.”  


“I’m heading up there anyway,” you said. “I could deliver it for you.”

“I’d be in your debt,” she said with a smile, handing you a carefully wrapped sword.

You returned her smile and grabbed the sword, placing it in your pack. You cheerily continued your way up he walkway. That was, until you walked into a beggar.

“I ain’t done nothing,” he said, watching you fumble under the weight  of your backpack.

“Are you drunk?” you asked, righting yourself.

“Unfortunately not. Hey, listen, there’s this really good Argonian ale in the Bannered Mare, if you want to, erm, ‘acquire’ it for me...”

Sighing, you added it to your mental list of ever-growing tasks. Maybe you would buy a book to write them all down.

Was there something wrong with stealing? Maybe. But having a beggar on your side definitely wasn’t the worst thing—you never knew when you’d need the help of the homeless.

At the market stand, you talked with a couple of the sellers. 

“Hello,” a woman said as you browsed her extra-large cheese wheels. “Anything I can help you with?

“Just looking,” you said. 

She smiled and returned to her conversation with a much younger woman. “So then, I said, ‘if you’re not gonna buy anything, then by the divines, get outta my market stall!’ Honestly, it’s always, ‘Carlotta, I can provide for you!’ or ‘Carlotta, why not try to ease up a little bit!’ ”

“Men giving you trouble?” you asked her, deciding right then to purchase all six of her cheese wheels.

She accepted your gold as you stuffed the wheels into your pack, deciding to just eat the one that wouldn’t fit. As you chewed, she explained her problem.

“All of them think they can ‘understand’ me...what they don’t understand is that I don’t want to be with them, and all I’m worried about is my daughter. The worst is Mikael. He’s tenacious, and not in a good way. Doesn’t understand that no means no.”

“Maybe I could talk to him?” you suggested between bites of cheese.

“Really? He might listen to you, with all your armour and your big weapon you have there.”

Adding it to your list, you turned to the other woman. She was beautiful, you admit, and she had a certain spark in her eyes.

“What about you? What’s your story?” you asked, trying to appear friendly—allies were better than foes, especially where women were concerned.

“My name’s Ysolda, and I’m trying my hand at being a merchant. The way Khajiit can just wander about Skyrim selling anything—I’m envious of their skill. All I need is a few good products to get me started, then I can finally get outta here and travel around Skyrim as a merchant!”

It was an honest dream, and you smiled at her.

“Say, if you happen to find a mammoth tusk, would you mind bringing it to me? They’re in high demand, and valuable enough that I could make a pretty good start for myself if I sold one.

Nodding, you made a decision about buying some paper and ink as soon as possible to keep track of everything you needed to do.

“Anyway,” Carlotta said. “Mikael is a bard at the Bannered Mare. Hulda runs the place. If you can talk to him, I’ll be grateful.”

* * *

Inside the Bannered Mare, you took a seat in front of the barkeep.

“Any rumours?” you asked, hoping to hear something about the dragons to see how far the word had spread.

“Not much,” she said. “But, if you have a chance, visit the Shrine of Azura up north near Winterhold.”  
  
Disappointed, you nodded you head and bought an ale.

“Hey, you,” a voice suddenly said.

You turned your head and were met by the sight of a Nord woman. She was dressed in heavy armour, and rested a hand on her hip. “You new in town?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna try your hand against one of the greatest warriors in Whiterun? No magic, no weapons,” she said.

Standing up and readying your fists was enough of an answer to her.

You circled each other carefully, and, with all the grace of a bull, she lunged.

You blocked her with your bracer, but the impact definitely bruised your arm. Another arm came up and knocked into your nose, and blood spurted out. You retreated, holding a hand up to your obviously broken nose.

The Nord took advantage of your moment of weakness and charged forward again. You dodged and landed a right hook in her ribs, which was mostly absorbed by her armour and more likely hurt you hand than it did her.

Now with a busted hand a broken nose, she thought there was no chance she was going to lose.

But you still had something up your sleeve.

You rushed forward before she had the chance to, and raked your nails across her face. You didn’t get to see the damage, but you definitely surprised her as she covered her face. You pummelled her relentlessly, ignoring the protests from your bad hand, until she fell back, subdued.

“I yield, I yield!” she yelled after one last hit to the side of her head.

She fell back onto a chair, trying to catch her breath. Angry red lines marred her face, and you felt guilty for a moment, before she broke out into a grin.

“Damn, that was one of the best fights I’ve had in a while!” she said. “Name’s Uthgerd the Unbroken—though, I guess that might have to change now, because of you.’

You laughed with her, wiping your nose. She tossed you a healing potion, downing one herself. Your nose finally stopped gushing blood, and you were in a good mood.

Which is when you heard a young bard’s rendition of Ragnar the Red.

You turned to the bard. “Are you Mikael?” you said.

He paused mid-song. “Yes?” he said.

Still giddy from your victory (and slightly lightheaded from all the hits you took), you thrust your jaw forward and swaggered over to where he was standing with his lute.

“Carlotta told me to tell you to stop pestering her.”

“Ha! You just want her for yourself! Well, I’m not sharing. You want her, you’ll have to fight for her!”  


He handed off his lute and rushed at you, but he was nothing compared to Uthgerd the Unbroken. He had no armour, very little skill, and definitely minimal experience fighting.

You quickly forced him to yield as you pinned his arm behind his back, and he sulked off when you let go, mumbling something about not bugging Carlotta anymore.

You sat on a chair, where Hulda served you another ale.

Catching your breath and finishing the ale, you snuck your way into the back room, not forgetting your promise to Brenuin. You spotted the Argonian ale, and slipped it into your pack. It was getting dark, so you decided to pay Hulda for a room (plus a little extra for the ale you had, erm, ‘acquired’), and slept in a fairly comfortable bed for once, wishing you had a place to call home.

* * *

In the morning, you woke up refreshed and washed the blood off your face and armour in the washbasin. You headed down the stairs, pack on your back, and out the back door.

You stopped by the market place, where you met Brenuin and swapped him the ale for—well, nothing. He gave a hearty laugh and caressed the bottle, and you decided it was best to leave him alone.

As soon as Carlotta showed up at the market, you told her the good news.

“Mikael will no longer be bothering you.”

“Really? You got that son of a bitch to stop, just like that?”  


You nodded deciding not to mention your little brawl—a little healing potion had covered up your bruised nose pretty well.

“By the divines, thank you!”

She sent you off with a load of fresh produce, which you eagerly took. Rule number one when adventuring in Skyrim: never pass up the opportunity for food or sleep.

As you went on your way to Dragonsreach, you walked across an argument by two Redguards—a man and a woman. 

“I know your family’s honour is important to you, but we can’t afford it!” she said.

“It took me weeks to find the thieves’ den. I can’t stop now, and I can’t get the sword on my own.”

“So you’re willing to let your wife and daughter starve to reclaim some rusty old sword?”

“I just need to hire one, maybe two good men. You won’t starve.”

“I’ll put it plainly, Amren. You can claim your sword, or you can keep your wife. You set foot outside that gate, I won’t be waiting for you when you return.”

“Saffir, wait! I...”

He dropped his head low, like a kicked dog, as the woman—Saffir—walked away.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said dejectedly as you turned to you, and you realized you were staring.

“Sorry—I—I didn’t mean to stare,” you quickly said, tripping over your words. “You said something about a sword?”

He sunk even further into himself. “My family sword...it was stolen by a couple of thieves who have holed themselves up in the White River Watch.”

“I could get it for you,” you offered, seeing how upset it made him to see his family heirloom gone.

Amren perked up immediately. “Really? You’d do that?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you! I am in your debt, stranger.”

“(Y/N).” 

He smiled. “I am in your debt, (Y/N).”

After that encounter and a quick conversation about Talos with a kind old lad named Heimskr, you headed up to Dragonsreach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed, I guess? I'm still super wary about publishing it, but it's just pumping out of me. 
> 
> P.S. I know it's shit lol this is so self-indulgent.


	7. Dragonsreach

The first thing you noticed were the bratty children.

They were everywhere. Trying to tell you what to do, looking down on you (despite you being significantly taller than them), and being, overall, little terrors.

Deciding to ignore them, you headed up to where the Jarl was seated. At least, you assumed he was the Jarl, because he was sitting on a throne arguing with someone.

“My lord, please. You have to listen. I only counsel caution. We cannot afford to attack rashly in times like these. If the news from Helgen is true...well, there’s no telling what it means.”

“What would you have me do? Nothing?”

“My lord, I just think we need more information...”

Just as you walked up to him, a Dunmer stopped you. “Keep your distance,” she said.

“I have news of Helgen...” you began.

“Let them come forward,” Jarl Balgruuf said.

You nervously stepped forward. 

“I trust you have something important enough to interrupt me in the middle of a council? What’s your name, kid?”

Ignoring the way he spoke down on you, you relayed the news. “I’m (Y/N). A dragon destroyed Helgen. Gerdur is afraid Riverwood is next.”

“Gerdur? Runs the mill in Riverwood, doesn't she? Reliable, solid fellow...not one to fall prey to child's fables. Are you sure it was a dragon that destroyed Helgen?”  
  
“I was there. I saw the dragon burn Helgen to the ground. And last I saw, it was heading this way.”

“By Ysmir, Irileth was right!”

“Irileth, my lord?” you asked.

“Me,” the dark elf said, hand gripping her sword.

The Jarl stroked his long blond beard. “If it’s true...there’s only one thing to do. Go see my court wizard, Farengar.”

* * *

“The Jarl said you had a project you needed help with,” you said to the absent-minded wizard, who just about nearly stepped into his own shock rune.

“So the Jarl thinks you could be of use, eh? Ah, he must be referring to my research with the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say ‘fetch’, I mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone that may or may not actually be there.”

“All right. What does this have to do with dragons?’ you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker—perhaps even a scholar? Anyway, when stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as fantasies, rumours, impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible. But, I began to search for more information—where had the dragons gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?”

“So what do you need me to do?

“Well, in my studies, I learned of a stone tablet said to be found at Bleak Falls Barrow.” You blinked at the name, remembering the horrors within—spiders, bandits, draugr. “A ‘Dragonstone’, said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. What I need you to do is go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet, and bring it to me.”

A memory snapped into place. “You mean this old stone?” you asked, pulling out the ancient tablet you had found when you had retrieved the golden claw. 

“The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! You already found it! You are cut from a different cloth than the usual brutes the Jarl sends me.”

“What next?”

“This is where your job ends and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim.”

* * *

The calm was shattered when Irileth broke into Farengar’s study.

“Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon’s been sighted nearby!”  
  
“A dragon?” you said, beginning to shake.

“A dragon! How exciting!” Farengar said. “Where was it? What was it doing?”

“I’d take this a bit more seriously,” Irileth said with a curl of her lip. “If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don’t know if we can stop it. Let’s go.”

You followed Irileth back to where the Jarl was sitting, a guard nervously twisting his armour and looking out of breath with his helmet on the floor. 

“So, Irileth tells me you came from the Western Watchtower?” Jarl Balgruuf said.

“Yes, my lord.”  
  
“Tell him what you told me,” Irileth said. “About the dragon.”

“Uh, that’s right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast...faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”  
  
“What did it do? Is it attacking the watchtower?”

“No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life...thought it would come after me for sure.”  
  
“Good work, son,” the Jarl said with a kind smile. “We’ll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest—you’ve earned it. Irileth,” he said, turning toward the Dunmer. “Gather some guardsmen and head to the watchtower.”

“I’ve already ordered my men to meet near the main gate.”

“Good. Don’t fail me.”

“(Y/N), you should go along, too. You’re the one with the most experience around dragons, already having survived one attack.  
  
“I should come along,” Farengar chimed in.

“No! I cannot risk all three of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city in case of attack.”

“As you command.”

The Jarl turned back to Irileth and you. “One last thing—this is not a death or glory mission. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”  
  
“Don’t worry, my lord. I am the very soul of caution.”


	8. Dragon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end of the chapter :)

On your way out of Whiterun, you met two Redguards dressed in some foreign clothing. They were talking to one of the guards.

“Look, you’ve already been told you’re not allowed here. Turn around and go back the way you came.”

The warriors shared a look. “We’re not causing any trouble. All we ask is to look for her.”

“I don’t care what you’re doing. After what happened, you’re lucky I don’t toss you into jail. Now get lost.”

“We will be back,” the other warrior said. “This is not over.”  


“Who are you looking for?” you asked once the guard had walked away.

“A woman—a foreigner in these lands. Redguard, like us. She is likely not using her true name. We will pay for any information regarding her location. We are not welcome here in Whiterun, so we will be in Rorikstead if you learn anything.”

“Why are you looking for her?”  
  
“It’s none of your concern. All you need to know is that we’re paying for information. If that doesn’t interest you, feel free to walk away.”

* * *

 

As you headed to the Western Watchtower, you met up again with Irileth and her group of Whiterun guards. The sun was beginning to set.

“Anything?” you asked, pulling out your warhammer.

“No,” Irileth said. “Look around for survivors!” she commanded.

You looked around, climbing all the way up the slightly crumbling tower.

A familiar roar broke through the sky.

A dragon, whose name you later learned was Mirmulnir, swiftly dove on top of the tower and released a fire breath that set a couple of the guards on fire. They stopped, dropped, and rolled, but it was too late for one, who screamed in agony as his flesh was burned away.

You took out your bow and shot a couple arrows at the dragon. Even when you hit him, it did little more than make him mad. Damn those useless iron arrows!

Realizing there was no way you could defeat the dragon with your bow, you pulled out your warhammer and descended down the stairs of the tower.

The dragon had landed, and was speaking in a low rumbling voice as it gobbled up the guards one by one. “ _Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde!”_

You approached, warhammer drawn. Standing face to face with the massive beast was more than a little intimidating, and you felt the insane urge to curl up into a ball.

But now was not the time for that.

Racing forward, you avoided his fire breath and slammed your warhammer into his snout. You continued to slam into him, avoiding razor-sharp teeth and sharpened talons. Just as you were about to deliver the deadly blow, he shouted something that almost made you pause.

“ _Dovahkiin?_ No!”

And with that, you crushed his mighty skull beneath your warhammer.

Then something unexpected happen.

Wisps of purple and blue energy surrounded you, along with the whispers of an ancient language long forgotten. After a moment they stopped, and you had a moment of absolute clarity.

“It can’t be...”  


“The Dragonborn...”  


“These are dark times indeed...”

“What?” you asked. “What was that?”

“You...you absorbed its very soul. You must be the Dragonborn!” one of the guards said in awe.

“The Dragonborn?”  
  
“Someone with the body of a mortal, but the soul of a dragon,” another guard chimed in. “There’s only one way to be sure...Try a Shout. Only the Dragonborn can use a Shout without proper training.”

Closing your eyes, you dug deep into your mind, trying to process what the guard was saying.

_Shout? Shout what? ‘Sweetrolls!’?_

You then remembered the strange wall with the mysterious markings on it in Bleak Falls Barrow. 

Opening your eyes, you let force a guttural, “Fus!”

Force blasted forward from you, setting the guards off balance. 

That only meant one thing.

You were the motherfucking dragonborn.

Irileth pursed her lips. “We must report back to the Jarl,” she said, though you caught a hint of worry in the undertones of her voice.

You returned back to Whiterun, and just as you were about o pen the gates to the city, you heard a shout from what sounded like the same language you had spoken to use your Shout.

Once back at Dragonsreach, the Jarl congratulated you and the other warriors, and explained that the sound.

“It had to have been the Greybeards summoning you up in High Hrothgar. There’s no other explanation. No doubt, you are the Dragonborn. It is up to you to defeat the return of the dragons. We will help, though, of course. Here, take the Axe of Whiterun,” he said, handing you a steel war axe. “It’s not much, but you may find it useful. I also promote you to Thane of Whiterun, which means you may buy property in the city, and are anything but a commoner. I’ll assign you Lydia to be your housecarl.”

Astonished, you thanked him profusely. Leaving Dragonsreach, you met Lydia.

“I am your sword and shield.”

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde!": My overlord will devour your souls in Sovngarde!


	9. In My Time of Need

After spending another night in the Bannered Mare, you decided to search for this mysterious Redguard woman. You searched all over Whiterun, and just about gave up when no one knew who you were talking about. A couple suggested Saffir, but nothing ever came from that.

Giving up at around midday, you headed back to the Bannered Mare.

Ordering a drink, something caught your eye.

A Redguard woman, who obviously had a concealed sword, serving drinks to the other patrons.

“Yes?’ she said when she noticed you staring.

“Did you know some warriors are looking for a Redguard woman?” you said, taking a sip of your ale.

She almost dropped the drink she was serving. “Are you sure? Oh no! They’ve found me? I need your help! Please come with me. I need to speak to you privately.”

You and Lydia followed her up the stairs and into a room, where she pulled out her blade. She was definitely not the most experienced, you could tell as her hands began to shake. “So the Alik’r know where I am? Are you working with them? You think you can take me? You so much as touch me, and you’re going to lose fingers. I mean it! I’ll..I’ll cut you in half!”

Trying to keep track of the rapid-fire way she spoke, you decided to focus on the threat of the blade. “Put that down before you get hurt,” you said, hands up to show you didn’t want to hurt her. “Lydia, sheathe your blade.”

“I’m sorry, just...just don’t hurt me,” the Redguard said. “I know you’re not one of them, but you just can’t help them. You can’t let them know I’m here. Please, will you help me? There’s no one here I can trust.”  
  
“Maybe. What do you want?”

“I’m not the person that the people of Whiterun think I am. They know me as Saadia, but my real name is Iman. I am a noble of House Suda in Hammerfell. The men looking for me, the Alik’r, they’re assassins working for the Aldmeri Dominion. The wish to exchange my blood for gold. I need you to root them out and drive them away before they find me and drag me back to Hammerfell for an execution.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” 

“They’re mercenaries, only in it for the money. They’re led by a man named Kematu. Get rid of him, and the rest will scatter. I dare not try myself—they could easily overpower me. But you...you might be able to find them without arousing suspicion. Then you’d have the element of surprise on your side.”

“Any suggestions as to how I can find them?” you asked.

“I heard one of them is in Whiterun jail for trying to sneak into the city. If he’s locked up, maybe you can strike a deal or get the information out of him. Please, I know I’m asking you to do something difficult, maybe even dangerous. I just don’t know who else I can trust. You’re my only hope.”

Sighing, you scratched your head. What had you gotten yourself into?

“Why haven’t you gone to the guards for help?”

“These men are ruthless. Cunning. Deceitful. I doubt the regular run-of-the-mill guard could handle it. The Alik’r will pay off whomever they can. Jarls and guards can be bought. And the Alik’r are close. I’m running out of time, so I’m choosing to trust you.”

“Why are they even after you?”  


“I don’t know for sure. I spoke out against the Aldmeri Dominion publicly; I suspect that’s why they were hired to hunt me down.”

“Alright,” you said after a moment of planning. “I’ll help you.”

* * *

You made your way to the prison, which happened to be near Dragonsreach. you entered, and the guards stared at you suspiciously. You went where rows and rows of cells were, and spotted one person in familiar garb.

You walked up to his cell, and he approached you from the other side.

“What do you want?” he spat.

“Where’s your boss? Kematu?” you asked.

“None of your business.”  


Sighing, you put your head in your hands. “What are you in for?” you asked, exasperated already.

“Tried to sneak into the city. Got caught. Others didn’t like that, so they’re letting me rot here.”

“How much to get you out?”

“100 gold.”

Shit.

“If I pay your fine, will you tell me where Kematu is?”

He smiled evilly. “Of course.”

You found a guard and paid him 100 gold to let out the prisoner. 

As he was opening the door, you asked, “Kematu?”

“Holed up in Swindler’s Den.”

* * *

 

“I’m not sure I like these Alik’r warriors hiding out here,” one of the bandits said, which you heard from your crouched position behind a thick post. “They seem like trouble.

“Keep it to yourself,” the other bandit said. “They’re not paying us to talk. They’ll be gone as soon as they’ve found whomever they’re looking for. And we’ll have all the more coin.”  


Alik’r warriors? Yep, this was definitely right place.

You and Lydia quickly took care of the two bandits and continued on through the cave.

There were more bandits, but nothing could stop you from your mission. You made it to a large waterfall, and stepped through the water, getting completely drenched, Inside the cavern were six Alik’r warriors dressed identically in loose robes and headpieces. There was another person without the headpiece who you assumed was Kematu.

“Stay your hand, warrior!” Kematu said. “You have proven your skill in combat. Let s talk a moment, and no one else needs to die. I think we can alll profit from the situation in which we find ourselves. My men will not attack, if you lower your weapons.”  
  
“I’ve been sent here to kill you,” you said.

“Of course, sent by...what is it that she's calling herself these days? Shazra? Saadia? One of those, correct? Did she appeal to your sense of honour? Your greed? A more... base need, perhaps? It doesn't matter. No doubt she's convinced you that she's the victim. But, do you know why we pursue her?”  
  
“She said you were assassins.”

“Assassins? No, nothing so crass. ‘Saadia', as you know her, is wanted by the noble houses of Taneth for treason. We were hired to see her returned to Hammerfell for her crimes. You can help us with that, and make sure no one else gets hurt.”

“What was her crime?”

“She sold the city out to the Aldmeri Dominion. Were it not for her betrayal, Taneth could have held its ground in the war. The other noble houses discovered her betrayal and she fled. They want her brought back alive. The resistance against the Dominion is alive and well in Hammerfell, and they want justice.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” you asked.

“She trusts you, at least to some extent. She sent you after us, and has no reason to think that you'd do anything other than that. Convince her that we'll be coming for her, and she needs to leave. Lead her to the stables outside Whiterun. We'll be waiting to take her into custody. I'll gladly share a portion of the bounty in return for your efforts in seeing proper justice done.”

Thinking for a moment as to what you should do, you remembered Saadia shaking in her boots as she told yo what had happened.

You looked at Kematu. he was smiling at you with utmost arrogance, and you knew he was one of those people who always got what he wanted.

For some reason, you trusted Saadia. Maybe for the same reason she trusted you.

“I was hired to kill you, and that’s what I intend to do,” you said, drawing the Axe of Whiterun and lunging toward Kematu.

Two of the Alik’r warriors stepped in front of you, and you quickly freed one’s head from his shoulders. the other landed a hit, but your armour protected you from the worst of it. Lydia took on the other four warriors, but seemed to be holding her own with the new sword you had given her. You turned your attention to Kematu, who was still standing with his arms crossed and a smug smile.

You drew put your axe away and drew your warhammer just as Kematu took out both his scimitars.

Sparks flew as both blades scraped together, setting your teeth on edge. He lunged at you, and you blocked him, but his other scimitar came around and clipped your side.

You retreated, gripping the wound on your hip. It was one of your only vulnerable places, and even the shallow wound pained you deeply. Lydia tossed you a healing potion, which you chugged.

“You’re no match for me!” Kematu said.

Then Lydia stabbed him in the back with a dagger. 

Blood started to pour out his mouth, and you cut off his head before he could do anything else.


	10. Amren's Sword

Instead of going right back to Whiterun, you decided to kill two birds with one stone and head to the White River Watch to retrieve Amren’s family sword. Outside were a couple bandits, which you quickly took care of. On the table outside was a note. It said:

_Rodulf,_

_Your little stunts try my patience. I know my uncle has issues, but he is our watchman and you will respect him. No more sneaking in and out. No more games with his ledger, or nails on his chair. One more ‘joke’ and you’ll see how funny a day in the cage can be._

_Hajvarr_

Inside there was a watchman. Just as you were about to duck, you noticed the milky colour of his eyes, and you realized he was blind.

“Eh? Who’s there? Rodulf, is that you?”

Quickly deciding to roll with it, you said, “Yeah.”

“Boss was looking for you—said he’d be up at the summit. Better not keep him waiting.”

You nodded, spotting a book labelled “Ulfr’s Book”. Ever the scholar, you picked it up and flipped through the pages. They were all blank.

But really, what had you been expecting from a blind old Nord?

You continued on through the cave, sneaking your way along. Soon enough, you heard voices.

“You think it’ll work?” one said as you spotted a feral wolf in a cage.

“ ‘Course not. Dog, I could train. But a half-starved wolf? Not a chance. Be lucky if it doesn’t rip our throats out...”

You signalled to Lydia to take down the bandits, while you snuck up to where the wolf was. As Lydia attacked, you used some lockpicks to unlock the cage. The wolf ran out as soon as the door swung open, targeting one of its former masters and tearing him to shreds.

Once the fight was over, it turned to you.

You quickly brought it down with a swing from your iron warhammer, and continued on your way.

On the summit, you met a bandit chief.

Drawing your warhammer, you sparred for a good forty seconds before Lydia was able to provide a distraction and you crushed his head. Beside his now-dead body was a chest. You unlocked it, and inside was a journal, a steel warhammer, and Amren’s sword. 

Inside the journal was a lot of nonsense—robbery, mutiny, rumour of a dragon, and wanting to train a wolf—but you traded in your warhammer for the new steel one, put the sword in your pack, and grabbed the unique gauntlets from the body of “Hajvarr”, according to his journal.

It was time to head back to Whiterun.


	11. Take Up Arms

As you got back into Whiterun, you delivered the sword to Amren. He thanked you profusely and even taught you a new technique for your one handed weapons.

Then you returned to Saadia.

“Any news of the Alik’r?” she asked once you were in her room.

“The Alik’r won’t trouble you anymore.”

“At last. I can rest safely. You have done me a great service, warrior. I cannot thank you enough. Take this reward. I managed to sneak some of my wealth out of Hammerfell when I left. It's the least I can do. For now, I will maintain my ruse here. You are always welcome in the Bannered Mare.”

She handed you a large coin purse, and you thanked her before making your way to Jorrvaskr.

* * *

Inside Jorrvaskr was a group of obvious warriors. Several were eating, and two were fighting—a male dark elf and a female Nord.

“Are they at it again?” a balding Nord said.

You watched intently as they continued, stopping only when the elf was on the floor, trying to catch his breath.

“Who do I talk to about joining the companions?” you asked the Nord.

“Speak to Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger, if you wish to join. He will decide whether you are worthy or not. He should be downstairs."

You went to the living quarters, hoping you weren’t intruding. Making your way to the back, you found someone who looked strikingly like Farkas and an old Nord with white hair.

Assuming the white-haired Nord was Kodlak, you greeted him. “I assume you’re the person I talk to about joining the Companions.”

“Correct.” He sized you up. “Hmm...I see potential in you.”

“I’ve never even heard of this person,” the other Nord said with distaste.

“Some heroes come here seeking fame, Vilkas,” Kodlak said.

“But Master—”

“I am no one’s master! Take the whelp out to the training yard. See if you can get a good fight out of them.”

“What?” you asked, suddenly worried.

“Not here,” Vilkas said. “Out in the training yard.”

You followed him up the stairs and out into the yard. “Draw your weapon. No magic,” he said.

You pulled out your new steel warhammer. You couldn’t do this. You didn’t want to hurt him—

Vilkas lunged at you and instinct took over. You swung your warhammer, and Vilkas caught it with his banded iron shield. The metal crumpled beneath your strength and Vilkas let out a howl of pain as his arm was bruised.

He bashed forward with the shield, giving you yet another bloody nose even as you tried to block. You pushed back, but Vilkas was strong. There was only one way you could win this fight, and it wasn’t through strength alone.

You ducked, letting Vilkas fall forward, and hit him in the centre of the back with the butt of your warhammer. He toppled too the ground, and you pinned him with the head.

“I yield!” he said. “I yield.”

You let him get up, dusting off his armour.

“Sorry,” you said.  


“No, you fought very well. Here, as a reward, you get to meet someone very special. Take this to Eorlund Gray-Mane up at the Skyforge. Come back when you’re done, then we’ll talk.”

* * *

“Vilkas sent me with his sword,” you said after you walked up the steps.

“I’m guessing you’re the newcomer then?”

“Why? Does Vilkas always send newcomers on errands?”

“Oh, don’t worry too much about it. They were all whelps once. They just might not like to talk about it. And don’t always just do what you’re told. Nobody rules anybody in the companions.”

“Someone has to be in charge though,” you said, perplexed.

“Well, I’m not sure how they’ve managed it, but they have. no leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the Harbinger, and he’s a sort of advisor for the whole group, but every man is his own. Every woman, her own.”

You nodded thoughtfully, then turned to leave.

“Wait, before you go...I have a favour to ask.”

You turned back to him.

“I’ve been working on a shield for Aela. My wife is in mourning and I need to get back to her soon. I’d be much obliged if you could take this to Aela for me.”

“Didn’t you just tell me not to be a servant?” you said with a sly smile, holding out your arms expectingly.

Eorlund’s eyes sparkled. “There’s a good man. Well done.”

* * *

After delivering the shield to Aela, you walked over to Farkas. Something about him made you feel...warm. Either way, you decided you needed to talk to him.

“Anything I can do?” you asked.

“Well, there is one thing...There’s a bandit camp near here. Been threatening our merchants and whatnot.  If you can clear it out, we’ll reward you, and then we’ll see about making you an official Companion.”

* * *

The bandit camp was nothing. The ‘leader’ was caught with his pants down, so there was no issue. It was at Silent Moons camp, and inside was a mysterious forge. Several weapons glowed with a green light, and you grabbed the war axe and put it in your pack.

After you cleared the camp, you headed back to Whiterun to let Farkas know you had succeeded. You didn’t know why, but his approval meant something to you.

You returned to Whiterun—the camp wasn’t that far—and got back to Farkas. “I cleared out the bandit camp,” you said tiredly. 

“Good, they won’t be giving us any more trouble. Here, have a little something for your efforts," he replied, handing you a sack of gold

“Oh, and Skjor was looking for you. Said he had a ‘special project’. Don’t know what that means, but you can bet it’ll be interesting.”


	12. Proving Honour

You found Skjor, who gave you his ‘special project’. Apparently, a scholar had come by and dropped some information regarding a shard of Wuuthrad.

“What’s Wuuthrad?”

“It’s an ancient elf-killer—the battle axe wielded by Ysgramor himself. The Companions have been trying to find and reassemble all the pieces for ages. If you found a piece, that would count as your trial, and you’d officially be a member of the Companions. I’m sending Farkas with you as your shield-brother,” Skjor said, and your heart fluttered.

You walked over to Farkas. “I hear your my new shield-brother,” you said.

“Not quite yet,” he replied. “You have to become a Companion for that. However, I am here to watch out for you and guide you. We’ll meet at Dustman’s Cairn. Come with me.”

* * *

“Looks like someone’s been digging,” Farkas said, drawing his steel greatsword. “And recently, too. Tread lightly.”

You nodded, pulling out your own weapon.

As you made your way through the Cairn, you encountered several draugr, which you dispatched quickly enough. Eventually, you walked into a large cavern with two gates. One was sealed shut. The other was open, and had a lever inside. You figured the lever would open the sealed gate, so you waltzed in and pulled it.

That’s when things went wrong.

The gate behind you slammed shut, trapping you inside. 

“Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Farkas said. “No worries. You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, breathing heavily. “Just a little bit of claustrophobia.”

“Alright, sit tight. I’ll find something to open the gate.”

Just as he was about to turn around and search, five bandits with various silver weapons jumped out of nowhere and surrounded him.

“It’s time to die, dog!”

“We knew you’d be coming here.”

“Big mistake, Companion.”

“Which one is that?”

“Doesn’t matter. He wears that armour, he dies.”

“Killing you will make for an excellent story!”

Farkas dropped his sword. “None of you will be alive to tell it.”

Then something even stranger happened.

Farkas arched his back, and thick, brown fur began sprouting from, well, everywhere. His nose elongated, and he grew taller as well as more muscular. He was...he was...

_A werewolf._

All five bandits lunged at him, but if Farkas could hold his own, werewolf-Farkas was definitely covered. It was a quick battle, and ended with the bodies of five bandits lying dead on the ground.

The werewolf ran off out of your sight, and the gate opened. Farkas returned a moment later.

“I hope I didn’t scare you,” he said sheepishly.

“What was that?” you asked warily.

“It’s a blessing given to some of us. We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome.”

“You’re going to make me a werewolf?”

“Oh, no. Only the circle have the beastblood. Prove your honour to be a Companion. ‘Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.’ We should keep moving, though; we still have the draugr to worry about.”

Accepting the fact that Skyrim had just gotten a bit weirder—if dragons existed, then you could handle a couple werewolves—you just nodded and continued on through the cave.

* * *

You learned he they weren’t bandits, and were, in fact, a group of Silver-Hands—warriors who hated werewolves with a burning passion.

You encountered several more as you travelled through the Cairn, along with more draugr. Eventually, you entered Dustman’s Crypt, and went inside.

In the crypt were even more draugr, skeevers, and a couple frostbite spiders. Farkas seemed especially bothered by the spiders, but when you asked, he just ignored you and said, “We should move along.”  


At the end of the crypt were a bunch of tombs that looked like they probably held draugr, but nothing happened as you walked by. The back held another word wall, and you felt the pressure of your mind expanding and the glowing blue energy surrounding you once again.

In front of the word wall was—

“A shard of Wuuthrad!” you said excitedly as you picked it up.

And just like that, the tombs opened one by one, releasing draugr who immediately surrounded you and Farkas.

Normally, draugr wouldn’t be a problem to handle—you had definitely shown that on your way down—but there were so many, and they were swarming you. You definitely got a little beat up; a scratch here, a deeper wound there, a collection of bruises and possibly some minor broken bones. You ran away where you could, taking healing potions out of your pack whenever you had a moment.

Then push came to shove, and a draugr with dark brown skin emerged from the sarcophagus in the centre of the room.

“Hulking draugr!” Farkas shouted as he attempted to hold off three restless draugr.

You decided that was your cue to take it on.

You bashed it relentlessly with your steel warhammer, but it definitely gave you a good fight. You knew you were in trouble as soon as it sliced your arm deeply with its ancient Nord war axe.

Your whole arm went numb and you fell back, gripping it tightly to try to stop the bleeding. You had no time to grab a healing potion before the hulking draugr was on you again. It shouted at you—the same way you had done after defeating the dragon—and you stumbled backwards.

Bashing it with its own shield seemed to do the trick enough for you to get away for a moment. Blood loss was making you lightheaded, but you picked up a sword on the ground from a fallen draugr. Just as the draugr opened its mouth to do another shout, you slipped the sword through its mouth and into its skull.

Both you and the hulking draugr fell down, your arm screaming in pain. Farkas rushed toward you, finishing off the draugr he was dealing with. He rested something soft under your head—a spare blanket from his pack—and fed you a large healing potion, tilting your head up and lifting the potion to your split lips.

Slowly, you regained your strength enough to sit up. “Thanks,” you said, wiping the blood away from your mouth.

“Not a problem,” Farkas said, giving you a warm smile. “Now, are you ready to head back to Skjor?”


	13. Joining the Companions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotta dialogue in this one, not a lot of action, but it's important so here ya go. Thank you for everyone who's read it this far!

When you got back to Jorrvaskr, four of the Companions were standing in a circle at the back—Vilkas, Kodlak, Skjor, and Aela. There were two empty spots—one opposite of Kodlak Whitemane and one beside him. Since Farkas took the spot beside Kodlak, you joined the circle opposite of him and the ceremony began.

“Brothers and sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This person has endured, has challenged, and has shown their valour. Who will speak for them?” Kodak began.

“I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us,” Farkas said.

“Would you raise your shield in their defence?” Kodlak continued.

“I would stand at their back, that the world may never overtake us.”

“And would you raise your sword in their honour?”

“It stands ready to meet the blood of their foes.”

“And would you raise a mug in their name?”  


“I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall revelled in their stories.”

“Then the judgement of the Circle is complete,” Kodlak finished. “Their heart beats with fury and courage that has united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, that the mountains my echo and our enemies may tremble at the call.”  
  
“It shall be so,” the rest of the circle said in unison.

The Circle disbanded, and Kodlak walked up to you. “Well, kid, you’re one of us now. I trust you won’t disappoint.”

“What does it mean to be a Companion?” you asked.

“It means living such that your Shield-Siblings would proudly say they fought at your side.”

Another question made its way to the tip of your tongue, and you desperately bit it back.

“Speak your mind,” Kodlak said. “For no one else can speak it for you.”  


Steeling your nerves, you took in a deep breath and asked, “Is it true that the Companions are werewolves?”

“I see you’ve been allowed to know some secrets before your appointed time. No matter. Yes, it’s true. Not every Companion, though. Only members of the Circle share the blood of the beast. Some take to it more than others.”  


“What about you?”  
  
“Well, I grow old. My mind turns toward the horizon. To Sovngarde. I worry that Shor won’t call an animal to glory as he would a true Nord warrior. Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric Lord Hircine. Some may prefer an eternity in his Hunting Grounds, but I crave the fellowship of Sovngarde.”  
  
“You’re looking to cure yourself?”  


“Yes, but it’s no easy matter. But you don’t need to share the worries of an old warrior. This day is to rejoice in your bravery! And speak to Eorlund if you want a better weapon than...well, whatever that is.”  


Slightly offended, you made your way up the steps to the Skyforge.

“I hear you have a new weapon for me?” you said.

“Yes, you made it through your trial and have been raised into the Companions, I hear. I can fashion whatever kind of weapon you want. Finest forge in Skyrim, right here before you.”

“I’d like a battleaxe,” you said after a moment of pondering.

“Just like Ysgramor himself. Well, I have one almost ready. Come pick it up later today,” Eorlund said.

A few hours later, you sold your steel warhammer for a Skyforge steel battleaxe. It was definitely worth the trade.

After that, you decided to call it a day and went to bed.


	14. The Blessings of Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really long chapter ahead, but hopefully you enjoy!

The next day, you decided to test out your new batttleaxe against several bandits at the Valtheim Towers. It worked beautifully, and you only nearly died about four times. 

Afterwards, you went adventuring northeastward, and came across a shack with a tree fallen across it. Looking for survivors, you only found a body, a statue of Dibella, and a copy of _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. The deceased inhabitant himself was in a very _interesting_ pose, and his breeches were pulled down around his ankles.

The less said about that encounter, the better.

Deciding to maybe help out Ysolda, you decided to try and find a mammoth tusk. You went to a Giant’s camp—Bleakwind Basin—but decided to flee when you nearly got punted into the air with a club bigger than you were.

You returned to Dragonsreach, collecting the bounty for killing the bandits and retrieving Lydia from the main hall. You had told her to wait in Whiterun while you and Farkas had done your little mission, and she seemed a little sore about it, but said nothing as she returned to your side.

Heading back to the Bannered Mare yielded promising results when you spotted a mammoth tusk on the cupboard behind the counter.

Sneaking quietly as you could, you took the mammoth tusk off the shelf and quickly stuffed it into your pack. Hopefully people would just assume it was a large sword.

You went outside to Ysolda, who was talking to Carlotta.

“I have something for you,” you said.

She gasped. “Is that a mammoth tusk or are you just happy to see me?”

You smirked. “Here’s your tusk.”

She hugged you and hefted the giant tusk onto her back. “Here, let me tell you a little tip for when you’re bartering.” 

She whispered some advice in your ear, and you thanked her for the information.

You headed back up to the Cloud district, where a dead tree was standing in the middle of a courtyard. A priestess was sitting on the bench near it, and you decided to strike up a conversation to see if you could learn more about Whiterun.

“Hello,” you said politely.

She looked up at you, surprised. “Hello. I’m Danica Pure-Spring, a priestess of Kynareth. Who’re you?’

“I’m (Y/N). Can you tell me anything about this tree?”  


“This is the Gildergreen. It was planted as a seedling in the early years of Whiterun. Disciples of Kynareth could sense something holy in it, and travelled far to hear the winds of the goddess in its branches. They built the temple. Of course, not as many pilgrims these days.”

“Why haven’t there been any pilgrims?”

“A big dead tree isn’t very inspiring if you’re coming to worship the divine of wind and rains. Kynareth gives life, and we need a living tree to be her symbol.”

“Is there any way to revive the Gildergreen?” you asked.

“I’ve thought about that...Trees like this never really die. They only slumber. I think if we had some of the sap from the parent tree, we could wake up its child. But even if you could get to the Eldergleam, you couldn’t tap it. Not with any normal metal.”

“Where is this tree?” 

“If you want to help, you’ll need something to cut into it first. You’ll have to deal with the Hagravens. I’ve heard about a weapon they’ve made for sacrificing Spriggans. It’s called ‘Nettlebane’. The hags terrify me, or I would’ve gone after it myself.”

“I’ll get Nettlebane for you,” you volunteered.

“Your spirit is strong. Kynareth’s wind will guide your path. It’s held in a Hagraven nest called Orphan Rock.”  


“Not a problem,” you said, lifting your new battleaxe.

“Good luck, child of Kynareth.”

* * *

As you were about to leave, you spotted several bodies lying on the ground around the gates. They appeared to be vampires, if their armour was anything to go by, and you carefully stepped around the. You would have to be on your guard from now on.

When you got to the Whiterun Stables, you heard a vicious barking and the sound of someone yelling. A horse ran past you in the opposite direction.

“What in Oblivion?” you said, potting two deathly black hounds attacking Skulvar Sable-Hilt.

You rushed to his aid, taking care of the hounds. One managed to bite you, but nothing a little healing potion couldn’t fix. You made sure Skulvar was alright, the carried on your way to Orphan Rock.

* * *

There was a small bandit camp you came across, only containing two of the little bastards, and you dispatched them quickly enough with your new battleaxe.

You searched around for gold, realizing you were getting close to Orphan Rock. You climbed up the mountain, struggling most of the way. 

But eventually, you made it to Orphan Rock. There were a couple witches who gave you a few good shocks and burns, but you beheaded all three of them by the end of the battle.

You went to the top of the rock and crossed a makeshift bridge made from a fallen tree—right into the waiting arms of a Hagraven.

The beast lunged out you, raking its nails across your neck. They didn’t go too deep, but you gasped and retreated, almost falling off the ledge. It then cast a spell, sending more shocks of lightning in your direction.

You seized up as the electricity raced through your body, only stopping when you fell to the ground. You picked up your battleaxe before the Hagraven could use another spell, and chopped off both its hands, which it had put up in defence. 

The Hagraven shrieked in agony, and you bashed it with your battleaxe until its face was an indescribable mess. You searched its body, recovering a strange looking knife, which you assumed was Nettblebane.

Jumping down the rock, you decided it was time to head back to Whiterun.

* * *

 

The only eventful thing that happened on your way back was a bunch of hired thugs that tried to kill you sent from someone named “Anise”, but you managed to kill them before they killed you. Still, it was a bloody battle, and you were almost out of healing potions.

Returning to the Temple of Kynareth and finding Danica, you said, “I’ve found Nettlebane for you.”

“Oh. I...well, I honestly didn’t expect you to return. Of course, I’m glad you did, though, and with Nettlebane, no less!”  


You stared at her.  
  
“Now...I don’t really want to touch that thing, though,” she said. “Do you think you could handle the next steps?”

Sighing, you said, “What needs to be done?”  


“Eldergleam’s sanctuary is to the east of here. You can use Nettlebane to retrieve some of its sap.” 

She walked away, and a man walked up to you.

“Was I correct in hearing that you were travelling to the grove of the Eldergleam?”

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“My name is Maurice Jondrelle. I am a traveller—a pilgrim. I follow the voice of Kynareth wherever it can be heard. I’ve dreamed of seeing Eldergleam for years. might I travel alongside you? I promise not to get in the way.”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you said, though secretly wishing it was just you and Lydia.

Or even better—just you.

“I thank you for your kindness. Let me just grab my things.”

* * *

You picked up a couple of healing potions and headed out the gates of Whiterun.

Just past one of the many farms, you came across a peculiar sight—a dragon in battle with a sabre cat.

You too out your bow and began shooting the dragon. It was too preoccupied with the cat to pay any attention to you. You shot it many times, but that didn’t seem to be working. With its frost breath, the dragon killed the sabre cat and turned to you.

You battled it with your axe, Lydia helping in the background. Maurice did little else but shriek. Eventually, it was weakened enough that you leapt on its head, and as it lifted its head in surprise, you sprang up and brought your axe down on it.

Its skull cracked open, and the dragon died with a mighty roar.

* * *

The next thing you had to deal with was an afflicted man who told you to find Kesh at the Shrine to Peryite. 

Adding it to your list, you continued on to the Eldergleam Sanctuary.

When you got there, you were met by two people. “Ah, are you here to share in the sights and sounds of this beautiful sanctuary, stranger?” the man said.

“...Sure,” you said, not wanting to offend him.

“I’m Sond. If you need anything, talk to Asta.”

You nodded and continued the climb upward. Massive tree roots were spread across the main path, making it inaccessible to get through. You pulled out the Nettlebane and took a swipe at the root. They immediately retreated from the path, and you continued your way, cutting roots as you went. 

When you got to the trunk, you tapped into it with Nettlebane and collected the sap.

Suddenly, a Spriggan appeared behind you, and had it not been for Lydia shouting, “Watch out!”, you would’ve been killed by some freaky nature magic.

As it was, you sliced the Spriggan in half with your axe.

Several more popped up, and Maurice proved to be completely useless once again. Lydia did a bit better, but it still fell largely on your shoulders to handle the Spriggans. And you could, but not without drinking most of the healing potions you had bought.

When the battle was over, you noticed two bodies on the ground.

“Rest in Sovngarde, Sond and Asta,” you said sadly. They seemed like nice people.

Once you were almost back in Whiterun, you ran into a frightened woman in ragged robes.  


“Please, you have to help me!”

“Calm down,” you said, moving your arms in a placating gesture. “Tell me what happened.”

“I-I was captured by bandits weeks ago and they were holding me up in Mistwatch. They need to be stopped!”

“I’ll stop them for you,” you offered sympathetically. “How about you head to Whiterun. Here, walk with me, if you want. I’m heading that way anyway.”

The two of you walked to Whiterun, then parted ways when you went through the gate. 

An Orsimer walked up to you as soon as you were alone.

“You there,” he said at you, crossing his arms. “The Dawnguard is looking for anyone willing to fight against the growing vampire menace. What do you say?”  


“What’s the Dawnguard?” you asked, looking for more information before signing up for anything.

“We’re vampire hunters. We search out and destroy those bloodsucking scum wherever we find them.”

Thinking back to the vampires that had attacked Whiterun and the death hounds that followed shortly after, you made up your mind. “Killing vampires? Where do I sign up?”

“Ha, Isran’s going to like you. Go talk to him at Fort Dawnguard, southeast of Riften. He’ll decide if you’re Dawnguard material. And the name's Durak, by the way.”

After that encounter, you ran into another Jon Battle-Born. You’d heard of the feud between the Gray-Manes and Battle-Borns, and decided Gray-Mane was the way to go. Either way, there was no reason to be rude to someone who had done nothing wrong.

“Well met, traveller. What brings you to Whiterun?”

“I’m here to help, in any way I can,” you said honestly. 

“Truly? Ha! By Shor, this city could use more like you. Make sure you stop by the Bannered Mare. See old Hulda, she’ll keep you swimmin’ in mead. But mind the bard, Mikael. Poncy little milk-drinker, that one.”

“You don’t like Mikael?” you said amusedly.

“Man gives bards bad name. We Nords have a long history as warrior poets. I am proud to count myself among them. But Mikael...he sings only for gold and the affections of wenches. He dishonours our traditions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, deciding Jon wasn’t that bad.

“Aye. Keep a song in your heart, and a blade in your boot.”

* * *

“I’ve got the sap,” you said to Danica.

“Wonderful! I’ll use it to repair the tree. Thank you so much for all your help,” she said, grabbing the sap from you.

Deciding that was enough for one day, you headed to the Bannered Mare, listened to Mikael sing ‘Ragnar the Red’ for the millionth time, and went to bed, sore from the events of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you've gotten this far!


	15. Markarth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter. Also I messed up a couple missions, so sorry if it's seems a little iffy from here. I'm trying my best to make it make sense.

Deciding you were getting a little tired of Whiterun, you thought a change of scenery was in order and headed to Markarth. Climbing mountain after mountain quickly became tiring, along with having to fight various wolves and bandits, and you quickly became drenched in sweat.

At Left Hand Mine, you heard an interesting conversation.

“Troll’s blood, what happened to you, Pavo?”

“The Forsworn...they’ve taken Kolskeggr Mine. We’re the only ones left.”

“Gods...you head inside and get some rest. I’ll send word to the Jarl.”

You walked up to who you assumed was Pavo, an orc by his side. 

“Kolskeggr mine is lost, friend. Forsworn killed everyone,” Pavo said.

“You’re from Kolskeggr Mine?” you asked, wanting to be sure you heard right.

“Was. Forsworn came in the middle of the night. Killed everyone. Gat and I are the only ones who escaped. Hopefully Skaggi will send word to the Jarl and something will be done.”

“What if I took care of the Forsworn?”

“I’d be grateful. Kolskeggr is my home. But I wouldn’t go there if I were you. There’s a whole group of them with aces and magic on their side. You’d never stand a chance.”

Adding “reclaim Kolskeggr Mine” to your list of ever-growing tasks, you headed to the stables, where you met Banning. H seemed like a nice enough fellow who trained war dogs, including a litter for the Jarl. 

“Do you think you could deliver this to Voada up in Understone Keep?” he asked, holding out some spiced beef.

“Sure,” you said, grabbing the package.

When you got inside the city, you walked right into the middle of an attack. 

A man in miner’s clothes was attacking two women. He yelled something about the Forsworn, then tried to kill one of them with a dagger.

You stopped him before that could happen.

His body thumped to the floor.

“By the gods, that man nearly killed me. You saved my life,” the woman said. “Please, take this.” She handed you an expensive-looking necklace, which you kept in case you could enchant it later. 

“A woman attacked right on the streets. Did you see what happened?” a Breton asked once you were cleaning your blade.

“I heard some shouting about the Forsworn. That was it,” you said.

“The Forsworn? Strange. Well, I hope the Eight give you more peace in the future, for what it’s worth. Name’s Eltrys, by the way. Oh, and I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important.”

It wasn’t your note, but you pocketed it anyway. “Do you know anything about the attack?”

“No. I was just getting some fresh air. Had one too many pints of mead at the Silver-Blood Inn.” He paused. “I should go now,” he said, running away.

Strange.

Next, you talked to Kerah, the other woman who was attacked. “Do you know why he was after her?” you asked after making sure she was okay.

“No. Margret’s such a nice woman. Comes by everyday looking for jewelry for her family in Cyrodiil. Is it because she’s a noble? Why would anyone want to kill her? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Next, you walked up to one of the Markarth guards. “We’ll handle things from here. Move along.”

“That man shouted something about the ‘Forsworn’,” you said suspiciously.

“I said move along. The Forsworn are just a bunch of madmen.We have everything under control. Stay out of it.”

“None of my business,” you said, deciding to make it your business right then and there.

“You—did you see that madman? A Forsworn agent,” another vendor said to you. “Here in the city.”

“Who was he?” you asked, getting increasingly frustrated with the lack of answers. “Who even are the Forsworn?”

“Think his name was Weylin, and he worked down at the smelter. Lot of the labourers there are sympathetic to the Forsworn. The Forsworn promise they’ll kill off all the Nords that rule over the Reach. Nothing but murderers and saboteurs.”

“Thanks for the information,” you said, walking away.

You walked a bit more around the city, then entered the Silver-Blood Inn, where you came across an obviously drunk gentleman.

“There’s no shipments coming in, so I do nothing. Just drink. You in the mood for a bet?”  


“You say something about a bet?” you asked curiously, ever the gambler.

“”I’m drunk, and it’s been a while since I had a good fight. A hundred septims says I can take ya, bare-handed. No one’s beaten Cosnach in...well, a while.”

“You’re on,” you said, bringing up your fists.

“Ha! That’s the spirit. Let’s go.”

You got your hits on him before he could even move, the alcohol clearly affecting him.

He keeled over and tried to catch his breath. “Wait, I can still fight...No, no I can’t.”

“You lost. Gove me my money.”

“Fair fight. Here you are,” he said, handing you 200 septims.

“So, where do you work, Cosnach?” you asked.

“Arnleif and Sons Trading Company. I’m a Porter. Just some muscle hired to move heavy packages. But we don’t get any shipments in. Forsworn attack every caravan. So all I do is sit here and drink.”

You thought back to the attack that had only taken place about an hour ago. “Hey, does a woman named Margret stay here?”

“Oh, yeah. Pretty little thing. Been sitting by the fire all day.”

You thanked him and walked over to the fire, where you spotted the familiar face of Margret.

“Oh, it’s you, from the market,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Any idea why Weylin attacked you?”

“No. I was just buying jewelry for my sister in Cyrodiil. I’ve never even seen that man before.”

“Do you remember anything about the attack?”

“Not much. One moment, I was buying a necklace, and the rest is just a blur.”

“Well, I’m sorry that happeneed to you,” you said. walking towards the storeowner to buy some ale and maybe a meal. 

“You looking for a drink?” the owner, Kleppr, said.

“Yeah. You heard any rumours lately?” you asked as he poured you some gross-looking mead.

“Not really. Talk to the cripple, Degaine, if you’re looking for something to do. Heard he just got kicked out of the Temple of Dibella.

Keeping that in mind, you spotted Degaine and stuck up a conversation with him. you found out he had been kicked out of the temple after sneaking in to “acquire” some gold pieces.

“I tell you, those ladies are living it up in there! Say, maybe you could get me one of their statues. Solid gold, about the size of a small child. Heh.”

Rolling your eyes, you put it on the list. Like you said, beggars could be some of the best allies, though you had a feeling Degaine was fairly fucking useless.

And with that day finally finished, you went to bed.

* * *

When you woke up refreshed thenext morning, you headed out to buy more healing potions,a s you were running pretty low.

First, you visited Arnleif and Sons. You noticed it had very little stock compared to Belethor’s in Whiterun. “This store has seen better days, hasn’t it?” you said, buying two minor healing potions.

“Oh, by the Divines, is it that obvious? I swear, if my Gunnar was alive to see me now...This store would finally be on its feet if I hadn’t lost my last shipment to Fosworn attacks. Aspecially-made Dibella statue. Say, you aren’t for hire, are you? A sellsword? I’ll pay you to recover that statuette from the Forsworn.”

“Sure, I’ll do it,” you said.

“Thank you. I’ll have a sum of gold waiting for you when you return. It’s inDeepwood Redoubt.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “So, who’s Arnleif?”

“Not me, I’m Lisbet. I inherited the store from my husband. His father was Arnleif. My husband, Gunnar, died about five years ago. Forsworn attack. I miss that stubborn oaf.”

“Did you hear what happened in the market?”  
  
“No?”  
  
“There was an attack.”

“No! As if trade wasn’t poor enough...Now there’s violence in the streets. It was the Forsworn, wasn’t it? I lose dozens of shipments every season to those barbarians. Now they’re in the city? Gods help us.”

You walked out the store, and up a little ways to a strange house where two people were having an argument. One was clearly a Vigilant.

“You there, stranger. So you know anything about this house? Seen any people enter or leave?”

“Why are you asking?

“I’m with the Vigil of Stendarr. We believe this house might have been used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth.”  
  
“Do you need any help?” you asked, mentally berating yourself for offering. You had enough on your plate already.

“I was actually just about to head on inside. Be good to have someone watch my back. Meet me inside at your earliest convenience. Daedra are powerful creatures and tricksters. Never know what you’ll find.”

* * *

After the strange encounter with Vigilant Tyranus, you continued on your way, where you met Yngvar.

“Bloody enough for you, outsider?”

“Excuse me?” you said.

“Markarth. Is it bloody enough for you?”

“Bloody enough,” you said, thinking back to the attack that had occurred the second you walked in.

“Then turn around and go back where you came. City doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but he continued talking.

“Blood and silver are what flows through Markarth. That’s the way it is, that’s the way it’ll stay.”

“What do you mean by ‘blood and silver’?”

“It's right there in the name of the most powerful family in Markarth. The Silver-Bloods. They have a whole mine filled with prisoners to dig up silver ore, gets smelted by workers they pay, and they own half the city. I work for them. The inn is named after them. When the guards make an arrest, they check with them first.”

“You live here in Markarth?”

“No. I live in a nice house in Solitude where the air isn't filled with smoke from the silver smelters and golden-haired girls shine my shield. Been here ever since I left the Bards College. Turns out a few muscles earn more gold than a damn lute. The Silver-Bloods pay me, let me crack a few skulls, and keep the guards off my back. That's all I need.”

Deciding it was best to leave him alone, you headed to the local apothecary to find some more potions.

* * *

The Hag’s Cure was a shop nestled in the rocks right beside the Keep.

“The ‘Hag’s Cure’. That’s a unique name,” you said to the apothecary, Bothela.

“Comes with living to a ripe old age, people start thinking there's something magical about you. Then, the insults. Still, a little knowledge of plants and potions can get you by. Not that anyone likes to admit buying things from you. See? I even have a little potion for the Steward. Mind handing it over to him? Just say it should solve that problem he has.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, what’s your opinion on Markarth? you asked just as you were leaving.

“We'd be better off without the Silver-Bloods. They send their brute, Yngvar, to shake some coins from me every few days. And Betrid Silver-Blood is always asking for more potions to fuel Thonar's 'ambitions.' Gives him a temper fiercer than any bear.”

“And the Forsworn?”

“Only that they break an old woman's heart. So many friends, so many kin, all lost trying to rebuild a past that was over long ago.”

And with that, you made your way to Understone Keep to deliver the potion and the spiced beef.

* * *

On the way to the Jarl, you ran into one of the Silver-Bloods.

“You another one of the Imperial’s puppets?”

“I’m no friend of the Imperials,” you said amusedly, remembering the time you almost got beheaded by them.

“Finally, someone with some decent sense. Thongvor Silver-Blood, at your service. Now, the Empire is destroying everything Skyrim stands for. Honour. Pride. The might Talos. Jarl Igmund can’t ignore us for much longer. Not if the Silver-Blood family has a say.

“You said something about Talos?”  
  
“That’s a true Nord hero. A legend. So great the Divines themselves lifted his soul into the heavens and made him a god. He founded the Empire, and now they’ve turned their back on him. To appease the Elves. Elves! Do Elves rule Skyrim, or do the Nords?”

“What’s this about Elves?” you said, suddenly wary of the Nord.

“They started the Great War. Nearly destroyed the Imperial City. Then the Emperor took the coward’s way out and surrendered. Now the elves dictate everything we do, and they don’t want us acknowledging a ‘mere human’ like Talos as the god he is.”  


“So, why should the Jarl listen to you?” you asked, twisting a ring on your finger. 

“We own Cidhna Mine. Best prison in Skyrim, and source of half the wealth in this city. We keep the Reach safe. We flood Markarth with wealth, but does the Jarl listen to us when we want a say? No. He’s busy forgetting that Ulfric Stormcloak saved this city from the Forsworn. Ulfric’s a hero, not a damn criminal.”

“Ulfric saved Markarth?” you asked increduously, and Thongvor nodded. “How?”

“He used the Thu’um. Shouted those Forsworn from the walls. Then he led a band of Nord warriors to take the city. Just like Talos himself at the Battle of Old Hroldan, reclaiming the reach from those heathen natives.”

Nodding, you decided that was enough of the conversation. “Well, I have to go deliver some things.” And you left.

* * *

“Here’s some gold for your troubles. Thank you for your assistance and, um, discretion,” Raerek said once you delivered the Stallion’s potion to him.

You then went to deliver the food to Voada, and headed back out into Markarth.  You remembered the note that Eltrys had given you You puled it out and opened it up.

“Meet me at the Shrine of Talos,” it said.


	16. The Forsworn Conspiracy

“I’m sorry to drag you into Markarth’s problems,” Eltrys said. “But after that attack in the market, I’m running out of time. You’re an outsider. You’re dangerous-looking. You’ll do.”

“ ‘I’ll do’? What are you talking about?”

“You want answers? Well, so do I. So does everyone in this city. A man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he’s a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing. Nothing except clean the mess up.”  
  
“You want me to find out why.”

“This has been going on for years.And allI’ve been able to find is murder and blood. I need help. Please. You find out why that woman was attacked, who’s behind Weylin and the Forsworn, and I’ll pay you for any information you bring me.”

That sparked your interest. You almost had enough to afford the small home in Whiterun, and you definitely needed a place to store all your shit besides Lydia.

“Okay, I’ll help. What do you know about Margret?”

“She’s not from Markarth. The air about her screamed ‘outsider’. Visitors in the city usually stay at the Silver-Blood Inn. Check there for her.”

“What about Weylin? Where did he live?”

“He was one of the smelter workers. I used to have a job down there myself, casting silver ingots. I never knew much about Weylin, except he lives in the Warrens, like all the other workers.”  


“So you’ve looked into these murders?”

“Yes. It all started when I was a boy. My father owned one of the mines. Rare for anyone who isn’t a Nord. He was killed. Guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I’ve been trying to find out why ever since. Gotten nowhere so far, and then I got married. Have a child of my own on the way. i swore I was just going to give up, for my child’s sake, but it’s like my father’s ghost is haunting me. Asking me, ‘Why?’ ”

“Alright, I’ll figure out who’s behind this,” you said, heading over to the Warrens. 

Inside, you met Garvey.

“Did you know Weylin?” you asked.

“Oh, yes. I know everyone who sleeps in the Warrens.Kind of the one who passes the keys around. I guess someone else will be taking his room now.”

“You’re in charge of the keys? I need the key to Weylin’s old room.”

“Sorry, but you don’t exactly belong here.”

“I wasn’t asking,” you growled, hefting your axe.

“Oh, you mean this key,” Garvey said.

You searched around Weylin’s room, finding a note in his chest.

_Weylin,_

_You’ve been chosen to strike fear into the heart of the Nords. Go to the market tomorrow. You will know what to do._

_-N_

Who was ‘N’? You decided it was up to you to figure it out.

As you exited the Warrens, a Breton loomed over you. “You’ve been digging around where you don’t belong. It’s time you learned a lesson.”

“Who sent you?” you asked, putting up your fists.

“Someone who doesn’t like you asking questions.”

He rushed at you, and you blocked him with your forearm. You punched him in the nose as he fell off-balance from the block.

You continued the brawl, but since it definitely wasn’t your first one, you soon had him pinned.

“Ugh! You mangy piece of pit-bait!”

“Talk. Or I send you to the gods.”

“Fine, fine! I was sent by Nepos the Nose. The old man hands out the orders. He told me to make sure you didn’t get in the way. That’s all I know, I swear!”

You let him up, and headed to the Silver-Blood Inn, worrying about this mysterious Nepos.

* * *

In the Inn, you met once again with Margret. “What are you doing in Markarth?” you asked harshly.

“Just visiting. I had some business here, that’s all.”

“You’re hiding something.”  


“Was it that obvious? Damn. I must be losing my touch. Alright, i’m one of General Tullius’s agents. I was sent to investigate the Treasury House and the Silver-Blood family. They own Cidhna Mine, one of the toughest jails in Skyrim. I was hoping I could buy or steal the deed, but I don’t think that’s how things work here. Mark my words, Thonar Silver-Blood was behind that attack in the market. Somehow...”  


You thanked her and headed to the Treasury house, but you were once again stopped, this time by a few Markarth guards.

“You’ve been told to stop snooping around,, so I’m going to tell you one more time: Back. Off.”

“I’m not trying to cause any trouble,” you said.

“You’re finding it. That’s bad enough. This is your last warning, outsider. We keep the peace here. Stay out of our business.”

* * *

 

After persuading a sweet girl named Rhiada, who was very obviously pregnant, you headed up to Thonar’s quarters and opened the door.

“What are you doing here? I told them no visitors.”

“Did you send those guards to threaten me?”  


“What did you expect? That no one was going to notice you butting into business that wasn't yours? The guards know who holds the purse strings in this city, and I don't like snoops. Markarth is my city. You have no right looking into my business. Now get out!”

Just as he shouted, you heard a commotion outside the door. You burst out, right into the middle of a fight between the risen corpse of Betrid Silver-Blood, Donnel, and Nana Ildene, and Rhiada. You quickly jumped in front of Rhiada to protect her, but she could hold her own. She thrusted her dagger into two of the three fighters, and you quickly took care of Donnel with your scimitar you had stolen from Kematu.

“What? By the gods, Betrid...My wife...they killed her. Damn Madanach. Damn his Forsworn backside.,” Thonar said.

“Will you talk now?” you said, having no time for the Silver-Blood’s bullshit.

“Fine. You want to know what the Forsworn really are? They’re my puppets. i have their ‘king’ rotting in Cidhna Mine. He was supposed to keep them under control.”

“The Forsworn have a King?” 

“Madanach. The King in Rags. While we were off fighting the Elves in the Great War, Madanach was busy ruling over the Reach. Until Ulfric came and put them down.”

“So you made a deal with the Forsworn.”

“When their uprising was crushed, I had Madanach brought to me. He was a wild animal, but a useful one. I offered him a stay from execution if he used his influence to deal with any annoyances that came up. Competitors, agents, idiots. So I've let him run his little Forsworn rebellion from inside Cidhna Mine. Now he's out of control.”

“Want me to take care of Madanach?” you said, not really wanting to help the old codger, but something told you this was important.

“You already got what you wanted, you damn hound. This is your fault. You and Madanach are animals, and I'll see you both rot to death in Cidhna Mine for this. Now get out of my house!”

You quickly left before things could get uglier, and went to Nepos’ house. Inside, you met yet another Breton. “If you must know, I'm the maid, Uaile. And the master of the house is old and needs his rest. Come back later.”  


“It’s okay, my dear,” an older man’s voice said. “Send them in.”

You assumed he was Nepos. “I know about Weylin,” you said.

“Ah, yes. you’ve proven to be a real bloodhound. Well, you’ve sniffed me out. I’ve been playing this game for almost twenty years. Sending the young to their deaths. All in the name of the Forsworn. And I’m tired. So tired.”

“Why would you do all this?”  
  
“Because my king told me to. Madanach. When the uprising fell at the hands of the Nords, they threw him in the mines. I don’t know how, but I get his messages, and I hand out his orders without question.”  


“You mentioned an uprising.”

“Markarth and the Reach are our lands. That is why we are the Forsworn. We cannot claim the home that is rightly ours. But then during their war with the Elves, we had our moment. We drove the Nords out of the Reach in a great uprising. Then Ulfric and his men came. Those of us who didn't run were executed, except for myself, my king, and a handful of others.”

“What do you know about Madanach?”  


“He is the King in Rags. A man who once held all the Reach within his grip. He stokes the passions of the downtrodden in this city. Directs them to kill the enemies of the Forsworn in our name. All from inside Cidhna Mine. A Nord prison. The irony is quite thick.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” you said,, hand straying to your battleaxe.  
  
“My dear child, what makes you think you're getting out of here alive? You were seen coming in. The girl at the door is a Forsworn agent masquerading as a maid. You aren't the first one to have gotten this far. You won't be the last.”

He stood up, but before he could reach for his sword, you sliced his head off in one strong swing. It rolled to the floor, and all three of his Forsworn servants attacked. 

You and Lydia did your best in the fight, and it showed. Forty-seven seconds after Nepos had finished talking, four bodies lie on the floor. You were glad neither you nor Lydia were one of them.

As you searched the bodies for anything useful or informational, you found Nepos’ journal. Inside was a single entry.

_I grow guilt-ridden in my old age. So man of the young sent to their deaths. All in the name of Forsworn. All in the name of Madanach._

_My king. Who watches us from behind the iron bars of Cidhna Mine. How long have I served you? Since the uprising of the Nords? Was there ever a time when all that violence hasn’t overshadowed our destinies?  
_

_What choice do I have but to do as I am instructed?_

It was time to report back to Eltrys.

* * *

You walked right into an ambush.

“We warned you, but you just had to go and cause trouble,” one of the four guards said, sword drawn. “Now we have to pin all these recent murders on you. Silence witnesses. Work, work, work.”

“What did you do to Eltrys?” You asked, horrified when the guard moved to reveal his broken body on the ground.

“Same thing we do with all the other natives who want to change things around here.We had a nice little deal between Thonar and Madanach until you and Eltrys started snooping around. Well, you wanted to find the man responsible for those killings? You’ll have plenty of time with the King in Rags when you’re in Cidhna Mine.”  
  
Something compelled you to obey. “Fine. I’ll come quietly.”  


“You’ll never see the sun again, you hear me? No one escapes Cidhna Mine.”


	17. No One Escapes Cidhna Mine

“All right, prisoner,” the orc woman said. “Eyes front. You’re in Cidhna Mine, now. And we expect you to earn your keep. There’s no resting your hide in a cell in this prison. Here, you work. You’ll mine ore until you start throwing up silver bars. You got it?’

“Got it, ma’am,” you said.

“Good. Now, get down there,” she said, opening the door and shoving you out.

Down in the prison, you met Uraccen. “What are you in for, new blood?” he asked.

“Killing a guy who asked questions,” you growled.

“Violent one, huh? Best keep that to yourself, new blood. Others find out, they’ll consider that a challenge. My advice? Serve your time at the pickaxe and get out. You don't want to end up getting a shiv in the guts over a bottle of Skooma.”

“A shiv?”

“Small blade. Easy to hide. I mean, sure, you could just swing a pickaxe into someone's face, but people tend to see that coming. Got a problem with a prisoner? Get a shiv. Hear Grisvar has a spare, if you could get him to part with it.”

You decided it would be useful, so you thought maybe you’d pay Grisvar a visit.

“Where are the guards?” you asked curiously, noticing the lack of the stuck-up overgrown brats.

“They come in here once a week to clean out the bodies, grab any ore we've mined, and beat down the troublemakers. That's the only time when we get food, too. And if there's not enough ore mined up, we don't get any.”

“So, what are you in for?” 

“A Nord nobleman I served was stabbed in the night. Wasn't me, but I knew I'd be blamed. So I ran. Joined the Forsworn. Started killing. Got caught. Now I'm here.”

“Why’d you join the Forsworn?”

“Because life was better under the old ways. No Nords and their laws. One day, the Forsworn will paint the walls of Markarth in their blood.”

Deciding you’d had enough of the conversation, you asked, “Where’s Madanach?’

“If you're asking, that means you're the new lifer. Tough luck, friend. Those guards sold you out but good. No one talks to Madanach, I'm afraid. Not without getting past Borkul the Beast. And you don't want to talk to Borkul the Beast.”

“Borkul the Beast?”

“Madanach's guard. Big, even for an Orc. Heard he ripped a man's arm off and beat him to death with it. He's old-fashioned like that.”

After exploring the prison, you discovered most, if not all, the prisoners were involved with the Forsworn in some way.

Eventually, you found Grisvar.

“I need a shiv,” you said.

“Ah, you want protection? I can get you what you need. Maybe you can do something for me first, though. Duach has a bottle of Skooma. Finest distilled Moon Sugar. I’m shaking just thinking about it.”

“Fine, I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you, friend. Don’t worry, I’ll have that shiv ready for you.”

You walked over to Duach, who you had talked to earlier and found out he had been caught in a Forsworn raid.

“Heard you have some Skooma.”

“You give me one more look, and I cut you open. That Skooma’s mine.”

“Hand over the Skooma,” you said, putting your fists up.

“That’s it!” Duach shouted, and you brawled.

But it wasn’t your first brawl. By the Divines, it hadn’t even been your first brawl that day. You won easily, and Duach quickly yielded. 

“Fine, fine! Damn addicts always stealing from me...”

“Now give me that Skooma.”

“Here. I hope you choke on it.”

You grabbed the Skooma and returned to Grisvar.

“I have you Skoma.”  


“Here’s your shiv. Promise you won’t ever use it on me, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, taking the blade.

You went back to the main room, and spotted a hulking orc standing by a shut gate. You assumed he was Borkul the Beast, so you walked up to him.

“The new meat. So soft. Tender,” he said, and you had to suppress a shudder. “What was it like killing your first one?”

You decided to tell the truth. You wouldn’t consider yourself a murderer, but you had killed before. “Exciting,” you said. “I felt the rush of blood...and smiled.”

“A true killer, like me. The gods put us here to fill their halls with souls. You'll fit in fine down here.”

“What are you in for?”  


“Murder. Banditry. Assault. Theft. And lollygagging."

“How long have you been here?” you asked curiously.

“Guards brought me in about 12 years ago. Was running a good group of bandits up until then. But these Forsworn. They're nothing like the men I cobbled together. They're real killers.”

You nodded. “I need to see Madanach,” you said.

“You want to talk to the King in Rags? Fine. But first you got to pay the toll. How about you get me a shiv? Not that I need one, but it's nice to have in case I need to do some ‘shaving.’ Heh.”   


“Here’s your shiv,” you said, handing over the one you had acquired from Grisvar.

You walked down a tunnel, spotting another one that branched off to who knows where. You tried to open it, but it was shut tight, so you continued walking down the tunnel. At the end, you met who you assumed was Madanach, frantically writing a note.

“Well, well. Look at you. The Nords have turned you into an animal. A wild beast caged up and left to go mad. So, my fellow beast, what do you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Revenge for trying to have you killed?”

“I want my freedom,” you said, already missing the bright sky and fresh air.

“Your freedom? Yes. But even if you were to escape Cidhna Mine, your name would still be stained with all that blood.”  
  
“You have a lot to answer for, Madanach.”

“Do I? And what about you? What right did you have to meddle in my affairs? Kill my people? Was it worth it? Your truth? You're one of us now, you see? A slave. The boot of the Nord stepping on your throat. Maybe if you understood that, I could help you.”

“Understand? How?”

“There's a man named Braig inside these mines. Besides me, he's been here the longest. Tell him I sent you. Ask him why he's here. I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth is.”

“What about Thonar?”

“I had Markarth. My men and I drove the Nords out. We had won, or so we thought. Retribution was swift. I was captured, quickly tried, and sentenced to death. But my execution never came. Thonar Silver-Blood stopped it. He wanted the Forsworn at his call, that I would point their rage at his enemies and spare his allies. And I have. Humiliating at first, but I knew he would let his guard down eventually. That he would come to trust I was under control.”

“And the Forsworn?”

“This was our land. We were here first. Then the Nords came and put chains on us. Forbid us from worshipping our gods. Some of us refused to bow. We knew the old ways would lead us back to having a kingdom of our own. That is who we are. The Forsworn. Criminals in our own lands. And we will cut a bloody hole into the Reach until we are free.’

* * *

You quickly found Braig, and told him that Madanach sent you to hear his story.

“My story, huh? Everyone in Cidhna Mine has a tale. Let's hear yours first. When was the first time you felt chains around your wrists?”

“It was at Helgen. I was being sent to the executioner.”

“So you know what it's like to have your life in someone else's hands. Why should they get to decide? Isn't judgment for the gods?” He paused. “You got any family? Anyone waiting for you on the outside?”  


“I have friends. Only family I need,” you said.   


Braig’s expression turned wistful. “I had a daughter, once. She'd be 23 this year. Married to some hot-headed silver worker or maybe on her own learning the herb trade. The Nords didn't care who was and who wasn't involved in the Forsworn Uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, that was enough. But my little Aethra didn't want to see her papa leave her. She pleaded to the Jarl to take her instead.” His eyes turned hard. “And after they made me watch as her head rolled off the block, they threw me in here anyway, to dig up their silver.”

“I’m sorry to hear what happened to you.”

“My daughter is the one who needs your pity. I'm just a poor Forsworn whose only regret is not killing more Nords before I was locked up.”

* * *

“I talked to Braig,” you said once you returned to Madanach.

“Imagine hearing a story like that, over and over. Each time a different family. Each time a different injustice. Your meddling above ground reminded me of how removed I've been from the struggle. My men and I should be in the hills, fighting.”

“You’ll help me escape then?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes, but I need a show of loyalty from you. I don't need a shiv in the back while we break out. Have you met Grisvar the Unlucky? He's rightly named, and he's also a thief and a snitch. He's outlived his minor usefulness. Take care of him, and then we can leave Cidhna Mine for good.”

You thought for a moment. Grisvar had seemed so kind,a nd he had made you promise not to shiv him.

But you wanted your freedom, more than anything.

“I can’t kill Grisvar without a shiv,” you finally said.

“Ah, Borkul muscle one out of you on your way in? Fine. Take this one,” Madanach said, handing you a couple of the tiny blades.

You went out the tunnel, past Borkul, and snuck up behind Grisvar. He never heard you coming, and you slipped the shiv into his back.

He gurgled for a minute, then fell dead to the floor.

You returned to Madanach.

“Grisvar is dead,” you said with some regret.  


“You've finally become one of us. Come with me. I think it's time I announced my plans to you and your new brothers.”

You followed him, where the group of prisoners had gathered in a circle. Much like the Companions had when they initiated you, but you had a feeling these folks were not as honourable. 

Though maybe they were, in their own way.

Uraccen finally spoke up.

“What's going on, Madanach? You wouldn't have old Grisvar killed unless you weren't planning on needing him.”

“My brothers, we have been here long enough. It's time to leave Cidhna Mine and continue our fight against the Nords. Through this gate, just beside my quarters, is a tunnel. A tunnel that leads right through the old Dwarven ruins of Markarth, into the city. Well, what do you say, my brothers?”

“Glory to the Forsworn!” they all cried out.

You followed the group into the tunnel, where Madanach opened the gate and you continued you way to the Dwemer ruins.

* * *

After travelling through the torture that was Dwarven ruins and defeating a couple large frostbite spiders.

When you got to the end of the ruins, you met a woman in the traditional useless Forsworn armour.   


“Madanach,” she said, bowing her head. “I’ve brought what you asked for.”

“Good work,” he said. “Get ready while I have a word with our favourite outsider.”

He turned to you.

“I had Kaie recover all the things the Nords stole from you. You better get ready before we break out into the city. And take this. It's blessed with the old magicks. Something to remember me by. Time to finally see the sky, and make it rain red,” he said, handing you some Forsworn armour that glowed with various different powers.

“What happens now?” you asked, putting on your comfortable leather armour.

“Now? I announce to all of Markarth that I have returned. Don't worry about your name. They'll know who to blame and fear after today. It'll take years, but I'll organize the Forsworn again. We'll reclaim our land, and then, when power is ours, we'll have peace. A kingdom. Until then, let me offer you a warning. Beware the Forsworn. No place in the Reach is safe from us now.”


	18. Breezehome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice short chapter for y'all cuz my last ones have been outrageously long. The next few will be short and sweet.

“Madanach! Think you can escape my prison, do you?” Thonar said. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to my family!”

“Your family?” Madanach replied. “You’ve poisoned the Reachwith your tainted silver for long enough. For the Reach!”

And everyone attacked. 

You made your way out of Markarth, killing as you went. Just as you got out the doors, more guards tried to stop you. 

You ran as quick as your legs could go, and they gave up after a few minutes. Out of sight, out of mind.

You fled back to Whiterun, where you returned to the Jarl’s steward.

On the way, Fralia Gray-Mane stopped you.

“All I can think about is my son, my Thorald...they say that he was killed, but I know better. I know my son is alive! Those Battle-Borns...they’re with the Imperials. They know it too, and yet they lie to my very face!”

She sounded like a madwoman, but you decided to humour her. “How can you be sure your son is alive?”

“I just...I just know it. I can feel it in my heart. You have to believe me. Please, visit me at my home, I can tell you the whole story.”

* * *

“I’d like to buy a house,” you said to Proventus Avenicci.

“As it turns out, I have one available right in the city. That’ll be five thousand gold, please.”

You handed him several coin sacks containing the amount.

“Would you like to decorate your home?”  
  
“Sure."

“1,500 gold, if you please.”  


Sighing, you handed it over.

You went to your new home, and unloaded all your spare items into various chests, cupboards, and wardrobes. You even relieved Lydia of all the junk she was carrying, minus her weapons, of course.

Once you were finished, you flopped into your bed. Home sweet home. And now you were completely broke.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No joke I had 5 gold after buying my house.


	19. Missing in Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I thought it was gonna be shorter oops

After you slept in your own home for the first time, you thought it was time to visit Fralia Gray-Mane at her house.

As you entered, you were almost attacked by a young gentleman with a big-ass steel battleaxe. 

“Mother, what’s the meaning of this? Who have you brought into our home?”

“Avulstein, put that down! They’’re here to help us find Thorald!” Fralia said.

“How do we know they’re not spying for the Battle-Borns? This was foolish! We can’t trust anyone! Who knows what they’ll do if they find me here.”  


“I can’t take any more of this. No more weapons, please. Let’s just talk.” Fralia turned to you. “I trust you’re not planning any trouble.”

“No, ma’am,” you said.

“So, you’re here to help?” Avulstein said cautiously.

“Yes, absolutely. What can I do?"

“I know that Thorald's not dead,” Avulstein said. “I just know it. The Imperials have him, and are keeping him somewhere. But I don't know where. Those damned Battle-Borns... they know something. They're hiding it. They practically taunt us with it. They must have some sort of proof! There's got to be something in that house of theirs. I just know it. I don't dare leave the house myself. So I need your help.”

“Why do you think the Battle-Borns are involved?”  


“The Battle-Borns. The Emperor's biggest boot-lickers here in Whiterun. Their connections to the Empire and the Legion are well-known. When Thorald didn't return home, there was no question in my mind. They knew Thorald supported the Stormcloaks, knew he was going to aid them in battle. Made sure he didn't come back. Locked him up someplace to get back at my family. I'm sure of it.”

“What sort of proof do you need?” you asked.

“Anything that confirms that Thorald isn't dead, but is being held captive. I know those Battle-Borns have it. They'd be hiding it, of course. Wouldn't want it to get out that they've been lying this whole time. But you might be able to butter them up enough to lower their guard.”

“I’ll find the proof you need.”

“Anything, anything at all would be a start. Then we can figure out how to get to him. I’m sorry for doubting you, friend. You have my thanks.”

After that conversation, you returned your attention to Fralia Gray-Mane. “Can you tell me anything else about what’s going on?”

“Thorald's disappearance has been hard on all of us, but Avulstein has taken it badly. He's afraid of being taken as well, so he hasn't left the house. All he talks about is Thorald. Please, help Avulstein if you can. Something has to be done, or we're all going to lose our minds.”

“What about you? Why do you think the Battle-Borns are involved?”  


“It's hardly a secret that they have ties to the Empire, and hate anyone who speaks out against it. Thorald did worse. He took action against the Empire, and the Battle-Borns knew it.”

You decided that was enough information, and you left.

On a desk in House Battle-Born, you found a purple-bound book. It looked suspicious, so you opened it up. 

_It has come to my attention that inquiries have been made as to the whereabouts of one Thorald Gray-Mane._

_It is my duty to inform you that Thalmor agents have taken possession of the prisoner and have escorted him to Northwatch Keep._ _  
_

_I don’t think I need to elaborate. It is in everyone’s best interest if the matter is dropped entirely. I trust there will be no further inquiries as to this matter._

_Gen. Tulius_

General Tulius? He was the one watching over Ulfric’s failed execution—and yours, for that matter.

You decided that was definitely enough proof, and returned to Avulstein.   


* * *

“I have proof that Thorald lives,” you said.

“I knew it! Let me see, please!” he said, taking the book. His eyes quickly scanned the pages. “The Thalmor? By the Nine, it's worse than I thought. So... Northwatch Keep. Then we know where to hit them.”

“You’re going to assault Northwatch Keep?”

“I'll do anything if it means saving my brother. You'll join us, won't you? Thorald can't be left to those...monsters.”

“You stay hidden,” you said. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Are you sure? I doubt you stand a chance against the Thalmor. I can have a group of men ready at a moment's notice. Many would be willing to help rescue my brother.”

“I’m sure. I’ll bring him back myself. Well, and Lydia.”

“Very well. I’ll give you a chance. But if you can’t do it, I will.”

* * *

 

On the way to Haafinger, you ran into a couple of revelers who gave you some Honningbrew mead for free. 

Thanking them, you carried on your merry way, where you found a caravan that had obviously been ambushed. A Redguard woman and Nord man lie on the ground, arrows sticking out of them. The arrows were unfamiliar to you—you didn’t know what make the cold possibly be, though they resembled Forsworn arrows in the way that they were forked at the tip.

You picked up a journal you found on the carriage.

_I begged my husband not to go, but he just wouldn't listen. He said if he delayed the shipment even another week, the Legion would find someone else to take it south._

_Let them keep their blasted money. The road to Whiterun is dangerous these days, everyone knows it. So many caravans have been attacked, so many travellers vanished into thin air. Some say it’s only bandits, but there are rumours of worse. Goblins. Ghosts. Witches._

_Twenty years we’ve been married now, and I can’t bear the thought of losing him. I’m not letting him go alone, not this time. We live or die together. Mara preserve us._

The journal made you sad. You added it to your pack, then made your way up to a new village—Dragon Bridge.

Outside of Dragon Bridge, you were met by a male Argonian. He was dressed in Elven armour, and was wielding a couple of dagger.

“Alright, hand over all your valuables, or I’ll gut you like a fish!”

“I don’t have time for this,” you said, walking past him.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” the Argonian shouted, and advanced with his two daggers. You swung around, axe outstretched, and beheaded him in one shot.

You looted some gold, a garnet, and the Elven armour off of him, trading your leather armour (but keeping your Helmet of the Old Gods).

Putting you battleaxe away, you headed on towards Northwatch Keep.

* * *

Just outside and to the east of Northwatch Keep, you spotted three Thalmor agents meandering around, like they were looking for someone.

You hailed them, expecting a chance to explain yourself, but they turned on you immediately. The mage threw flames at you, which you quickly ran away from him. The other two agents chased after you with their swords. Lydia shot the mage down with her arrows, and you took care of the two that were now chasing you. 

Once there were three dead elves on the floor, you searched them to see if they had anything of use. The mage had a note.

_Be on the lookout for (Y/N). They are an enemy to the Thalmor, and have actively disrupted our activities and caused great harm. If spotted, you are to destroy them with extreme hatred._

_Be advised, they are extremely dangerous, and quite able to defend themselves.If caught by local authorities, we are unable to offer you any assistance._

_For the glory of the Aldmeri Dominion!_

So they had obviously caught wind of your plans.

Great.

* * *

You infiltrated the keep easily enough, after a quick conversation with the guard and a fight that lasted all of three minutes. You decided a new strategy was in order, and snuck in with your bow drawn.

You shot down Thalmor soldiers as you went, but you hadn’t quite perfected your sneaking, so you had to resort to your axe more than once. Lydia followed close behind, sneaking as well.

Eventually, you found a Nord who was chained to the wall.

“Are you Thorald Gray-Mane?”

“Yes,” he replied nervously.

“I’m here to rescue you.”  


“By the gods, I never thought I’d see a friendly face again. We need to get to safety as soon as possible. Let’s move,” he said as you undid his shackles.

“So, what do the Thlamor want with you?” you asked curiously as you made your way through the rest of the keep, intercepting Thalmor as you went. Despite his muscles, Thorald wasn’t much help, but you could handle things by yourself. And, you supposed, with a little help from Lydia.

“I'm not sure. At first they accused me of being a Stormcloak, a secret Talos worshipper...They wanted a confession. To what didn't matter, they simply wanted me to admit to something. I think they wanted to break me. Use me as a way to get to the rest of the Gray-Mane family. I gave them no such pleasure.”

“How long were you chained up?”

“Gods, I've lost count of the days. It feels like an age has passed. I wish I could believe that I'd have held out forever against their torture, but I can't be so sure. Now thanks to you I needn't worry anymore.”

As you exited the keep once and for all, you told Thorald he was finally safe.

“I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me from this place,” he said. “I suspect I'd never again see the light of day otherwise. But why would you risk your life for me, a stranger?”

“Your family was concerned for you.”  


“Of course. I should’ve known. Avulstein was behind this, wasn’t he?”  


“Yes. I told him to wait in Whiterun.”

“A wise decision, but I fear he may not be safe there anymore. They'll go looking for me, and Whiterun will be the first place they search. I cannot stay. Not here, not in Whiterun. It likely won't be safe for Avulstein, either. Our best hope now, is to fall in with the ranks of the Stormcloaks. But would you do me a favor? Tell my mother to suffer the winter's cold wind, for it bears aloft next summer's seeds. She'll know what it means. I thank you again, friend. You've given me my life back.”

* * *

You returned to Fralia in Whiterun and told her her son was safe.

“Is he? You’ve saved him? I must see him at once!” she shouted excitedly.

“I’m afraid he can’t see you right now. He didn’t think it was safe to return.”

“What? After all this, I can't even see him? How... How do I know you're telling me the truth, and not just what I want to hear?”

“He said to tell you to ‘suffer the winter’s cold wind.’ ”

“ ‘For it bears aloft next summer’s seeds.’ That's my boy. So it's true, then. For now, it's enough to know that he's alive. I can find peace in that. Thank you, dear friend. You've given me back my son. Here, I'd had Eorlund forge this for Thorald. It was to be a present for his return. I suppose he can't have it now. Why don't you take it? We can always make another for the day when this war ends and Thorald can come home.”

She handed you a war axe that glowed light purple.

You thanked her and decided to head back west, maybe to Rorikstead.

Avulstein was nowhere to be seen.


	20. Rorikstead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for child abuse in this chapter.

The road to Rorikstead was...interesting, to say in the least.

First, you killed an orc for some skooma—what cold you say, the stuff was good.

Next, you were nearly assassinated, but luckily you fought off your attacker. That’s when you discovered a note. Apparently they were a member of the “Dark Brotherhood”.

_As instructed, you are to eliminate (Y/N) by whatever means necessary. The Black Sacrament has been performed—somebody wants this poor fool dead._

_We’ve already received payment for the contract. Failure is not an option._

_-Astrid_

Who in Oblivion was Astrid?

Why did everyone want you dead?

Either way, you carried on, glad the assassination had failed. 

You walked past some Imperial soldiers, trying to hide your face. “You should try joining the Imperial legion,” one of the soldiers said. “Empire’s always looking for more soldiers.”

Then, you encountered the farmer.

He was walking with a cow with traditional designs painted on it. “I’d stay away if I were you.”

“Why?”

“I'm on my way to a Giant camp and I can't guarantee those beasts won't think you're part of the offering. Keep your distance and you shouldn't have anything to worry about.”

“So, what offering are you bringing to the Giants?”

“The cow, of course. Others do it differently, but I've found that an annual offering usually keeps the giants away from our livestock. Some think it's superstition, but I believe it works. I've yet to have a giant kill any of my livestock.”  
  
“Why is it painted?”  
  
“It's tradition. We mark the animal as a way to let the giants know we're giving it to them willingly. Sort of a peace offering.”

“Do you need any help?”

“I have everything under control. Thanks for the offer.”

“Well, good luck.”  


“Thanks. You take care of yourself, now.”

* * *

By the time you got to Rorikstead, it was getting dark.

You decided to stay at the Frostfuit Inn, where you met a young lad named Erik.

“You look like you've seen your share of adventure. I envy you that. In fact, maybe you can help me with something.”

“What is it that you need?” you asked, already getting dead tired.

“I want to be an adventurer like you, but my father says I can't. He says that he needs me to stay here and work the farm, and even if he did let me be an adventurer, we couldn't afford to buy armor. His name's Mralki, and he's the innkeeper here. I hope you can change his mind.”

That didn’t sound so hard.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You walked up to Mralki.   


“What can I do for you?” he said.

“I need you to let your son go. He deserves his freedom.”

Mralki sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I just thought...never mind. I’ll let him go. Maybe I can save up enough money to send him to Whiterun to get some armour.”

“Here’s a little bit to get you started off,” you said, offering some spare septims you had (which wasn’t that much).  “So, hear any news lately?”

“I hear something sinister about Aventus Aretino in Windhelm. Might be worth checking out.”

You thanked him and asked for a room, which he gave to you for free. 

Before you went to bed, you decided to get one last breath of fresh air. You spotted a young girl outside in a red dress.

“Hello,” you said kindly.

“My name’s Sissel. Are you an adventurer?”  


“Yes, I am.”

“Have you seen any dragons?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, I have seen a couple,” you replied.

“I had a dream that there was a good dragon. He was old and grey, but he wasn’t scary.”

_Fascinating,_ you thought. _Such a young girl, and she’s not afraid of dragons?_

“Anyway, most of the time I try and stay away from my dad and Britte. The beating’s the same from either one of them.”

You saw red. You would not stand for the harming of this innocent child. “Who’s your father, Sissel?” you asked.

“Lemkil, the farmer.”

“I’ll take care of him,” you said, slipping away.

* * *

You returned to the inn, sheathing your bow, and headed to bed. You talked to Mralki one last time, and he gave you a bounty for some bandits the Jarl wanted eliminated. Maybe you’d get to that in your spare time, if you had any.

In bed, you dreamed of dragons. 

The next morning, you left nice and early and found an old balding man. He looked important, if his fine clothes were any indication, so you decided to stroke up a conversation with him.

“Hello, I’m (Y/N),” you said to the elderly man, shaking his hand.

“Jouane Manette.”

You found out he had fought in the Great War and saved the life of Rorik, of whom Rorikstead was named after, and that this was some of the best farming land in all of Skyrim.

“How will you protect yourselves against the dragons?” you said, noticing only two or three guards.

“How can we? We're a community of farmers, not fighting men. If not for the war, we might have enough guards in the hold to protect the settlements. That the dragons should return now is most unfortunate.”

You nodded and walked away, prepared to leave Rorikstead. What you didn’t expect was to find Sissel, looking close to tears but like she was desperately holding them back.

“Oh. Hi,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes.

You crouched down to her level. “What’s the matter?”

“My papa died...and I’m all alone...”  


“I could adopt you, if you want,” you said, smiling hopefully.

“Really?” she said, perking up immediately. “Do you...do you have a place I could live?”

You thought back to your little place in Whiterun. You could definitely convert the alchemy lab into a children’s bedroom.

“Yes, I’ve got a house in Whiterun.”

“Oh, wow! Are you...are you sure? You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Yes, I’m sure...daughter.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much. I promise I’ll be the best daughter ever!”

You smiled, and escorted your new daughter to Whiterun.


	21. Soljund's Sinkhole

You stopped in front of your house with Sissel and opened the door.

She ran inside, investigating everything.

An hour later, she appeared in front of you again, where you were reading Kolb and the Dragon.

“It’s all I could’ve hoped for,” she said. 

She shifted around, looking embarrassed. “I...I know it’s not much, but...I found a few pretty things on the way here. They’re in the chest in my room. If you see anything you like, please, take it! You’ve done so much for me. It’s..it’s the least I can do.”

“Can I give you a hug?” you asked.

She nodded.

You carefully approached her and engulfed her in your strong arms. She returned the hug with renewed energy, and let you go only too soon.

You went into her bedroom and searched in her chest for anything. She had found a lot of useful alchemy ingredients, and you took what you needed.

After dropping off some spare junk at your house and crafting more healing potions at Arcadia’s Cauldron, you headed off, deciding it was time to pay Kolskeggr Mine a visit. 

But first, time to take care of your new child.

“Okay, here’s some money for food...there’s more in the cupboard...go to bed at a reasonable time...and here, I got you some things,” you said, handing her a new dress and a doll.

“I can’t really afford to get you a weapon right now,” you said. “But soon, I promise. Just in case anything happens.”

And with that, you headed west.

As you passed through Rorikstead for the second time, trouble found you in the form of another dragon.

It blew fire on the town, setting some crops on fire. You and the two guards shot at it repeatedly with your arrows, but your arrows weren’t strong enough to bring down the beast.

As soon as it landed, no doubt intent on tearing everyone to shred, but you attacked it with your battleaxe, dropping your bow to the ground. You’d get it later.

For now, you leapt onto the dragon’s back, hoping it wouldn’t take off, and sliced into its wings.   


The dragon roared in pain, and as it threw its head back to bite at you, mouth open, you swung your batttleaxe into its mouth. With another swing, you buried it into its skull.

It fell to the ground in agony, twitching.

Purple light surrounded you, coming from the corpse of the dragon.

“It can’t be...”

“The Dragonborn?...”

You left before they could ask any more questions.

* * *

On your way to Kolskeggr, you came across Soljund’s Sinkhole.

A Breton with red war paint on his nose approached you. “Whoa, there. I don’t know where you’re going, but stay out of that mine. It isn’t safe.”

You hadn’t planned on going in the mine, but you asked why.

“We tunnelled into an old Nordic crypt. The whole place is crawling with draugr. We’re not mining up any ore with those undead around, so I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.”

“I’ll clear out the cave for you,” you said, already lifting up your battleaxe.

“Are you sure? It’s awfully dangerous in there.”

“I can handle it.”

* * *

You walked to the left first, where you were greeted by three draugr. You took care of them without too much difficulty. The mine was full of moonstone ore, and you mined a couple pieces before continuing into the actual sinkhole part.

You jumped down, landing heavily on the floor. Four more draugr awaited you, and you fought against them as Lydia jumped down before she helped you out.

Walking on down the cave led to a room with water on the floor, crawling with draugr. You and Lydia fought them, her with the greatsword that you had given her, and you with your battleaxe. Once they were all destroyed (and after a quick healing potion), you walked over to where there was a hole in the ground, full of water.

“I’m just going to check this out. Wait here,” you told Lydia.

After taking off the bulk of your armour and your pack, you dove into the hole. Your efforts were rewarded when you found a chest that had a surprising amount of gold and a few gems in it.

You nearly ran out of air, so you swam back up to the surface, gasping for breath when you reached it. You gathered up your supplies and Lydia, and carried on through the sinkhole.

* * *

 

A ball of fire nearly hit you when you entered what you hoped was the final room.

You leapt back, patting the flames out of your tunic. 

That was when you spotted the Draugr Overlord.

You met him in the middle, blades clashing, as fireballs landed around you. Focusing on your target rather than the fireballs proved to be a big mistake, as the next one broke you two apart, and the extreme heat singed you.

Lifting your axe just in time as the Draugr Overload crashed down on you, you pushed him back with all your strength, then leapt out of the way.

Right as a fireball would’ve set you ablaze.

The draugr screamed as it caught fire, running past you with its flesh melting right before your eyes. It eventually stopped, and the fire continued until it was nothing but a pile of ashes.

The fireballs stopped.

You searched the ash pile for anything interesting, and picked up a strange looking faceted gem. A woman’s voice echoed through the cavern.

“A new hand touches the beacon. Listen. Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy. Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath. And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light.”

Beacon? Mount Kilkreath?

Kilkreath was familiar to you. You were sent a mysterious “letter from a friend” that a courier delivered to you soon after you accidentally used your shout in Whiterun one time, telling you to search for the source of power in Kilkreath Ruins.

A name flashed in your mind.

_Meridia._

So this was Meridia’s Beacon.

Wonderful.

* * *

You returned to Perth after escaping the sinkhole.

“I cleared the mine of draugr,” you said.

“You did? We were waiting for the Jarl to send an entire regiment to clear that mine. Now we can get back to work. Thank you,” Perth said.

“No problem,” you said, continuing on your way to Kolskeggr Mine.


	22. Kolskeggr Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I was gonna make this chapter and the last chapter one chapter, but the first part started to get really long so I split it in two, but now this is really short so fuck me I guess

When you arrived at Kolskeggr Mine, you went into the house at the base of the mountain. You assumed it was Pavo and Gat’s house. Inside was mostly empty, and what was there had obviously been pillaged. You searched around for any food or healing potions, and found a couple. It was time to head to the actual mine.

 

Two Forsworn stood at the entrance and attacked, but you sliced them up with your battleaxe, which slowed them down considerably. Lydia fired a few shots, and that was the end of them.

You found some gold ore and gave it to Lydia to carry in her pack, who didn’t look too happy about it. But then again, she never really looked happy, so you let it go.

You snuck into the mine, shooting down Forsworn as you went. You had found some better arrows, and they ddid they job well. Most of the time, it only took two or three hits before the Forsworn would go down.

Continuing on in the same manner, you spotted a Forsworn with a helmet similar to your helmet of the Old Gods, and something red over his chest where his heart would’ve been.

You’d heard a little bit about Forsworn Briarhearts from Madanach, but had never seen one in real life. Shooting him with a couple arrows proved ineffective, and you were forced to reveal yourself as he started casting destructive spells at you.

Dodging the spells as Lydia went for a frontal assault, you launched yourself forward and hit the Briarheart square in the face with the butt of your axe. He stumbled back, and you took advantage by burying the head into his head.

Blood poured from his head onto the blade and to the floor. You wrenched your axe from his skull, eliciting a slick noise and a crunch as you damaged his skull more.

Wiping off your blade, you continued on through the mine back to where you started. Then you left, returning to Pavo.

* * *

“Kolskeggr Mine is clear of Forsworn,” you said once you got back to Pavo in Left Hand Mine.

“You drove them off? By yourself?” He looked incredulously at you. 

“Yes, you should be able to return without any trouble.”  


He brought you into an embrace. “Thank you, thank you so much! We’ll head back to work, right away. Take this, it’s the least I can do,” he said, handing you some gold septims.

“Not a problem,” you said, pocketing the gold.

Realizing you were close by, you headed to the Shrine of Peryite.


	23. The Only Cure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The order got a little messed up because I ran out of healing potions so I had to go to Markarth and you saw what happened in the previous chapters and I died a LOT but anyway I think it should still make sense so here you go!

After climbing even more mountains, you finally made it to the Shrine. Mixing potions on the alchemy table was a male Khajiit in miner’s clothes and an Alik’r hood. You assumed he was Kesh.

“Are you Kesh?”

“Yes...” he purred.

“Tell me about Peryite,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

The Khajiit turned to you. “He is the pus in the wound. Oh, proper ones curl their noses, but it’s pus that drinks foul humours and restores the blood. I worship Peryite, yes, because sometimes the world can only be cleaned by disease.”

“May I commune with Peryite?” you asked.

“Not everyone has the stomach required to entreat my Lord. But Kesh likes you, friend. There is a way Peryite may speak to us who will take Him in. If you wish to commune with Him, we’ll need the incense.”

“Tell me about this incense.”

“Yes, the incense. Fetch for me a deathbell flower, one silver ingot, a flawless ruby, and some vampire dust. Then I will show you how to make the incense.”

* * *

You already had the deathbell and vampire dust, and Lydia pulled out a silver ingot you must’ve asked her to carry at some point.

You walked down to Karthwasten, right into an argument between several sellswords and what appeared to be the town residents. Something about Silver-Bloods and the mine.

“Trouble with the mine?” you asked once the group of sellswords disbanded and headed toward the Sanuarach Mine. 

“Robbery is what it is. The Silver-Bloods are trying to muscle in on my land,” the man said. “Forsworn attack the mines, and suddenly all these sellswords show up to ‘help’. They won’t let anyone work until I sell it off.”  


“What if I convince them to leave?” you said, determined to help.

“You can try, but I’d keep your sword-arm ready if things get ugly. Name’s Ainethach if you live. If not...well, it was nice meeting you.”

* * *

 

Inside the mines, it got ugly pretty fast.

“I need you and your men to leave,” you said to Atar, the leader. 

“Helping out Ainethach, huh? Give me a reason not to plunge a dagger in your chest.”  


Not surprised at his attitude, but wanting to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed, you tried to persuade him to leave. “The whole town wants you out. Leave.”

“Let’s see them make us.”

“Fine,” you said, swinging your already-drawn battleaxe.

Atar gave you a little bit of trouble, but eventually fell to your blade like so many others. Lydia took care of the other sellswords, and pretty soon, you were headed out of the mine.

You reported back to Ainethach, who was elated to have his mine back. 

“Here, it’s the least I could do,” he said, handing you quite a generous amount of gold.

Now all you had to do was find a flawless ruby.

* * *

After talking to some of the town residents, you discovered where there might be one.

“There’s a little ship that’s wrecked down south of Kolskeggr Mine. Probably has a little bit of loot. Try your luck there. Watch out for Forsworn, though.”

You thanked her and headed to Kolskeggr Mine, which was still clear of Forsworn.

You travelled south and down a gorge, where you found the shipwreck. It was hardly a ship—more of a fishing or row boat—but it held a couple gems inside. Holding your breath when you caught a flash of red in your eye, you picked up the ruby, and after inspecting it, deemed it flawless.

It was time to return to Kesh the Clean.

* * *

“I have the items you requested.”

“Ah, have you? Let Kesh have them,” he said, taking the items. “Yes, yes...This will create a fine fume. That should do,” he said, stepping up on a couple boxes and mixing them in a giant golden urn. “Now—inhale deeply.”

And with that, you inhaled the fumes.

Suddenly, the colours of the world became sharper. Your senses were fine-tuned, and you heard a loud ringing. Kesh walked away, but as you were about to follow him, two spectral skeevers appeared in front of you.

“Breathe deep, mortal. I would have you hear me well, so let these vapours fill your lungs,” the skeevers said in unison, though it sounded like only one voice.  


“What is this? Have I been poisoned?” you asked.

“In a sense, but no more poisoned than a fool after too much wine.”  


“What do you want with me?”  


“I have watched you for sometime, you know. The decisions you’ve made intrigue me, and I wonder if you are the proper agent for a task of mine.”

“What task?’ you said with some hesitation.

“I sent a blessing to Mundus, a wasting plague that infected a scattering of Breton villages. One of my monks, the elf Orchendor, was sent to gather those Afflicted. He shepherded them into Bthardamz for me, but has since...lost his way. I will not stand for betrayal. I want you to go to Bthardamz and kill Orchendor, in my name.”

“Why does Orchendor deserve to die?”

“An impertinent question. The elf must die. Either carry out my will or do not. You are not the only mortal agent I could choose.”

You thought for a moment. “I’ve heard your request. Release me!”  


“So you have, mortal. Go now. Kill Orchendor.”

The world became normal again as the colours dulled and the two skeevers disappeared. You returned to Kesh, who had gone back to his alchemy.

“Who is Orchendor?” you asked.

“Orchendor? Kesh knew him. He’s an Overseer. Shepherd. Gathers the Afflicted, contains the festering wound. Orchendor and his Afflicted are meant to stand ready, awaiting Peryite’s command to cover the world with his blessing.”  


“Where is Bthardamz?” you asked.

“Not far, not far. This one looks upon it on clear days. Look to the west, at the foot of the mountain. The Dwarven ruins there are Bthardamz.”

Thanking him, you decided it was time to pay Orchendor a visit.

* * *

At Bthardamz, and after a near close call with some spinning blades at the entrance, you ran into your first Afflicted.

He vomited green fluid onto you, which was more gross than deadly, but the Afflicted were easy enough to kill as most of them weren’t even wearing armour.

Now, if there’s one thing you hated more than stranger vomit getting into the crevices of your armour, it was Dwemer ruins. Bthardamz was a labyrinth of halls. You entered in the upper district, killing Afflicted as you went. Then you entered the workshop, the upper district again, and then into a little dwelling.. Inside were two Afflicted. You snuck up, and one of them appeared to be unconscious, and the other woman was talking to him.

“I know you can’t hear me, brother, but I don’t like what we’ve become...”

You accidentally rattled a piece of Dwarven metal on the floor.

“What was that?” she asked, getting ready to get more disgusting fluid all over you. You stepped out of your hiding spot and cut off her head in two hits.

Just to be safe, you landed your axe in the middle of the unconscious brother’s chest.

You returned to the upper district, then the lower district, where there were a lot of spinning blades and you met your first Dwemer sphere. It was harder to kill, but eventually the metal crumpled under your axe.

Then it was onto the study, then back to the lower district, and you found a Dwarven warhammer in a hidden chest. You traded you battleaxe to Lydia and kept the warhammer. Even though it was slower, it dealt more damage than you beloved battleaxe.

More Afflicted greeted you, and you almost got overwhelmed, but with the help of Lydia, and more so the healing potions you’d gotten in Markarth and Whiterun, you succeeded in dispatching them. You pushed several off the edge (Dwemer apparently didn’t like guardrails) and knocked the heads of a few others. Lydia mostly used her bow from a distance, almost shooting you, but resorted to her new battleaxe when a couple Afflicted got past you.

After that, you went to the arcanex, where there were several Dwarven spheres, workers, and a bloody centurion waiting for you. Focusing on one enemy at a time proved useful, until a metal spider jumped onto your back and bit down on your neck.

You screamed in agony and threw it off, then tried to put pressure on the bleeding. This time, two spheres came after you. You ran, trying to pull a healing potion out of your pack. This proved difficult to do with one hand, and you were soon overwhelmed.

Lydia decided then it was time to pull her weight and shot the spheres until they were more arrow than metal. They turned their attention to her, and raced away from you in a huff of steam.

You drank your healing potion quickly, then jumped back into the fight. 

Soon, all that was left was the Centurion at the end of the hall. It hadn’t spotted you yet, so you snuck down and pulled out your bow. You shot it as many times as you could before it got too close, then pulled out your new warhammer.

You beat its legs until it fell down, dodging its ice breath as you went. Lydia continued to shoot it with her arrows, landing a couple good shots in its head. Some more missed, but hey, it was Lydia.

After you defeated the giant centurion, you moved on to the main hall. There, you found Orchendor. You tried to sneak up on him, but he heard you and turned around.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, raising his hand to cast some form of destructive spell.

You leapt out of the way of his frost spell, cursing as you fell to the floor. You shot at him with your drawn bow (from when you were trying to sneak up on him), but he simply dodged your arrows.

You traded your bow for your warhammer and launched yourself forward. Orchendor teleported to the other side of the room. Lydia shot him, the arrow grazing his arm. That didn’t seem to affect him much, as he just teleported nearer to you.

Big mistake.

Orchendor raised his hands as a shield, likely trying to cast a protective spell, but your warhammer crashed into his hands before he could. He howled in pain at his crushed hands, and teleported nearer to Lydia. She used her battleaxe to cut his left arm off at the elbow.

He creamed and unleashed a powerful frost spell with his remaining hand, but it wasn’t enough. You leapt forward, bringing your warhammer behind your head, then bringing it down with all your might onto his head.

Orchendor’s body twitched as it fell to the floor, and you cleaned off your warhammer. On his body, you found a dagger that was obviously enchanted with some kind of fire spell—a perfect gift for Sissel—and a key. You used the key to unlock the door that brought you to the lift to get out of the ruins.   


Sighing happily as you returned to the surface, breathing in the fresh Skyrim air, you headed back to Kesh and Peryite.

* * *

On your way back, you ran across an old Orc who had just killed two sabre cats.

“If you are not here to grant me a good death, then you can leave.”

“A good death?” you asked, hand on your weapon.

“Yes. If I were to simply lay down and die, it would not please Malacath.”

“You don't look that old to me. Certainly you're still a strong, capable warrior,” you said, cautious of the orc and not wanting to get on his bad side.

“Indeed. One should find his death while he can still call himself a proper man. We Orc men are not like these Nords and Imperials who carry on until they are grey and feeble and their hair falls out. To cling to something past its usefulness is unseemly, how much more so when that thing is you?”

An idea came in your head, and it didn’t really matter if it pleased him or not. “Perhaps I could give you the death you seek?” you said.

“Perhaps...Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I am sure,” you decided. “I will give you a good death.”

“Hmm....we shall see.”

And with that, he drew his weapon and lunged.

You blocked with your warhammer, but he pushed you back. There was no other option besides following his lead. You dove to the side, getting out of the block, and threw your warhammer to the ground.

“Ha! You fight without a weapon, and I shall do the same!”  


He threw down his own sword, and you grappled with him for a solid minute. Lydia stood off to the side, knowing better than to get involved. The Orsimer seemed to be gaining ground, but you still had a trick up your sleeve.

You used your shout. 

_“Fus!”_

He stumbled back, and you took the chance to jump on his back and wrap your arms tight around his throat.

The Orc struggled against your hold, but you just tightened it whenever he seemed to get a good hold. He tried to buck you off, but you held fast, even as he backed up against an outcropping of rock. Your armour protected you, and eventually, he fell to the ground. His scrabbling fingers weakened against both of your arms, and finally stopped altogether.

You let go, brushing yourself off as you stood up. Closing his eyes, you continued on your way back to the Shrine to Peryite.

* * *

Once you returned, you checked with Kesh to make sure it was still okay to commune with Peryite.

“The vapours are waning, but not yet gone. Take a breath. Peryite will speak if He sees fit.”

You walked over to the brazier and inhaled the fumes.

Instantly, the world around you came into better focus, and the voice of Peryite echoed around you.

“Well done, mortal. All things are in their order, and Orchendor roams the Pits. His betrayal will be punished, and your obedience is rewarded.”

A sheild appeared on your back ahead of your warhammer, and you could feel it humming with magical energy.

“What will become of the Afflicted?” you asked curiously.

“Did you leave any alive? The Afflicted are mere vessels for my Blessing. It will spread to others through their touch and my own. Another Overseer will replace Orchendor, when the time comes. For now, all is cleansed and ordered.”

“So, what happens now?"

“Go, seek your fate. I will be watching, and perhaps we will meet again—afterwards...”

“Very well. Goodbye,” you said.

“Embrace order and hard truth, mortal. Goodbye.”

And the world returned to normal.


	24. Dragon Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, sorry

Since it was nearby, you made your way to Dragon Bridge. On the way, you had to kill an orc, mainly because he called you a milk drinker, and won the fight easily.

On the overlook to Dragon Bridge, you found a Forsworn camp. Apparently, word of you helping Madanach had not reached them, because they attacked you on sight. Despite their lightning-fast reflexes, you beat them back and eventually had to kill them. You probably could’ve explained that you helped Madanach, but this way involved less talking, and more killing, so you decided to go with that choice.

In Dragon Bridge, you met Horgeir, who was obviously having some wife troubles.

But that was none of your business.

Soon after, you found a Redguard Farmer.

“Seen some mean-spirited folks pass through lately. Thought I was rid of those sorts when I left Markarth.”

“Who’s been passing through?” you asked.  


“Soldiers, on both sides of the war. Imperials and Stormcloaks looking to use our bridge, as it’s the only crossing over the Karth River for miles. I just wish this could all get sorted out without a war...”

Suddenly, a roar echoed through the mountains. You looked up, spotting a dragon circling high overhead.

It roared once again, then flew away.

* * *

In the inn, you met the innkeeper. “Faida’s the name,” she said, leaning on the counter.

“Heard any rumours lately?” you asked.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the things I hear when people loosen their tongues with a little bit of mead. I heard there’s a face sculptor in Riften, if you want to check them out.”

You decided to ignore the underhanded insult.

“And then there’s Horgeir. Everyone in town knows about his wife’s affair but him. Probably better if he doesn’t know.”

“And what about dragons? You seen any here?”

“Not much. There’s one that circles sometimes, but it hasn’t attacked...yet. Personally, I think the dragons are here to test us. Make sure we’re still true Nords.”

You thanked her for the information, then asked for a room to sleep. You deserved a good rest after the fight with Orchendor.

Sleeping once again brought dreams of an older dragon, but the memories disappeared once you woke up.


	25. Ivarstead

After your little visit to Dragon Bridge, you decided it was time to fulfil your destiny as the Dragonborn and head to the Greybeards at High Hrothgar.

On the way, you ran into Talsgar the Wanderer.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked after he introduced himself.

“Observing and capturing the epic struggle for Skyrim! When brothers clash with bitter blades, surely there is a song to be found.”

“Good luck,” you said, carrying on.

You found more bandits who had obviously ambushed a merchant of some sort. You quickly took care of them, then continued on through Rorikstead. 

Rorikstead reminded you of Sissel. You already missed your daughter dearly.

You decided to stop by at Whiterun. You had to get more potions anyway.

Between Rorikstead and Whiterun, you met a farmer and his wife, carrying many of their belongings. They seemed to be on the run.

“There are dragons about, traveller. Be warned.”

“I know. I was at Helgen,” you said, omitting the part about how you were an Imperial prisoner.

“Then you’ve seen them, too. We kost our home, our livestock...We barely have enough gold to get by.”

You thought of he countless families that must have similar stories to theirs, and your heart ached. Something definitely had too be done.

“Here’s some gold,” you said, handing over a pouch of gold.

“Thank you, traveller. Be safe, and don’t forget to keep an eye on the sky.”

* * *

Once you were in Whiterun, you bought some potions (and made some with various ingredients you had found in your travels), and then went to your Breezehome as it was getting dark.

Sissel was siting on the floor, but leapt up when she saw you.

“You’re home!”

“Yes, and I got you something,” you said.

You handed her the iron dagger of embers you’d found on Orchendor’s body. now she would have a defense in case anything were to go wrong.

No one would hurt her ever again.

She thanked you profusely, then used it to practice on one of the dummies in her room.

You walked upstairs, unloading some weapons, armour, and other miscellaneous items you had picked up. Then, you went to bed.

Travelling was hard work.

* * *

 

The next morning, you woke up bright and early and went on your way to meet the Greybeards.

First stop, Ivarstead.

After asking, you found out that’s where the steps started. So you headed that way. You ran into a lone bandit back at Valtheim Towers, and got a little lost. You found a few Stormcloak soldiers and a farmer looking to go to Windhelm to join Ulfric’s army, and had to kill a bear. 

You also found a troll den. You defeated the beast with the help of a few healing potions, and discovered a Stormcloak soldier inside. His body had been half-eaten and was beginning to rot. In his cuirass, you found a note.

_Captain,_

_There have been multiple complaints about attacks near the river northwest of the Rift. We could use some more civilian support from that area for the war effort, so send a few men to investigate. It’s probably just a couple of wolves, so you’ll only need to send at most two men._

_Happy hunting_

Apparently it was a little more than just a couple wolves.

From there, you made it to Ivarstead.

A Nord and a Bosmer were having a conversatino at the base of the mountain in front of the bridge.”

“On your way up the 7,0000 Ateps again, Klimmek?”

“Not today. I’m just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar. The path isn’t safe.”

“Aren’t the Greybears expecting some supplies?”  


“Honestly, I’m not certain. I’ve yet to be allowed into the monastery. Perhaps one day.”

Klimmek turned to you. “On your way to High Hrothgar?” he asked, and you nodded. “Need to make a delivery up there myself.”

“What types of deliveries do you make to High Hrothgar?”

“Mostly food supplies like dried fish and salted meats; you know, things that keep fresh for a long time. The Greybeards tend not to get out much, if you catch my meaning.”

“And in return?”

“Well, it's kind of an understanding between us. I mean, it just wouldn't feel right to charge them for a bit of preserved food. Trouble is, my legs aren't what they used to be and climbing the 7,000 Steps takes its toll.”

“I could do it for you,” you said. “I’m headed up that way anyway.”  


“Really? That would be kind of you. Here, take this bag of supplies,” he said, handing you a satchel. “At the top of the steps, you'll see the offering chest. Just leave the bag inside and you're done.”

“Anything I should watch out for on the climb?”

“Well, there's the occasional wolf pack or stray, but that's all I've ever had to deal with. Shouldn't be a problem for the likes of you. Other than that, watch your footing. In these wintry conditions, the stairs can be treacherous.”

You thanked him for the advice and walked around Ivarstead some more. You ran into the Bosmer again, who introduced himself as Gwilin and wished you a fine day.

“You seem quite happy,” you said, grinning. His good mood was contagious, it seemed.

“My father taught me an important lesson many years ago. He said, ‘Gwilin, you have the whole world before you. Go out and experience it... be whatever you want to be.’ So, I took his advice, and here I am. This life might not look like much to you, but I'm content, and isn't that all that matters?”

You nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, have yourself a great day!” he said, walking away.

Next, you went into the inn, where a grumpy Nord woman was sitting at the counter.

“You don’t seem quite as happy as Gwilin,” you commented, sliding in beside her.

“My business is falling apart, my apprentice never listens to me, and now there’s talk of dragons. If I hadn’t sunk every bit of gold into my mill, I would have picked up and left Ivarstead long ago. And those damn bears are beginning to take my milll away from me as well!”

“You having a bear problem?”

“Are you kidding? Those damn things will drive me right out of business! Tell you what. You bring me ten of their pelts from anywhere int Skyrim, I’ll gladly pay you for thinning out the herd.”

You nodded, adding it to your list. “How could bears run you out of business?”  


“Have you ever seen what a bear does to the trees? They jump u on their hind legs and scratch them to bits...marking their territory or something. It’s getting to the point where I have to scour Skyrim for untouched trees at the right size. Costs me too much time and money.”

You agreed with her and turned to the innkeeper.

“Name’s Wilhelm, if you need anything. If I were you, I’d keep away from the barrow on the east side of the town...it’s haunted.”

“What makes you think it’s haunted?”  


“I’ve seen spirits lingering about with my own eyes. If someone like you could investigate it, that would be great. One adventurer, Wyndelius Gatharian, went missing inside about a year ago. Be careful.”

You sighed. Looks like you were headed to shroud Hearth Barrow.


	26. Shroud Hearth Barrow

Right on the eastern side of Ivarstead, you entered the barrow. You walked down the winding stairs, and entered a room. One of the gates was shut.

You played a little game with the levers, trying to make it so that both gates would open. One time, you nearly got shot by poisoned arrows, but you managed o duck just in time.

Eventually, you got both gates open at the same time, and continued on.

You heard a voice coming from up the tunnel.

“Leave this place...leave this place...leave...leave...leave...”

You entered the main chamber.

“Mortal fool! No one hides from the dead!” a apparent sirit said, then attacked.

You swung your warhmamer on instinct, not expecting to hit the spectral ghost, but were pleasantly surprised when your hammer met solid flesh.

The spirit screamed as his ribs cracked, and you bashed his head in to stop the wailing.

As he fell, instead of turning to ash, he turned more solid until he just looked like any regular corpse. You found an alchemy lab, several glowing blue potions, and a journal with “Journal of Wyndelius Gatharian”.

Ah, so the “spectre” was Wyndelius.

You opened the journal.

_4E 200, 18 Morning Star: I've set up camp inside the barrow. This has to be the place. According to all of my research, the burial chamber should be located here. All I need is some time undisturbed to find the claw.It must be hidden here somewhere._

_4E 200, 25 Morning Star: Had a close call today with that fool Wilhelm. He came close to entering the barrow, but I was able to scare him off by rattling some pottery shards in a bag. These people are far too superstitious for their own good. Gives me an idea._

_4E 200, 28 Morning Star: After a few failures, I've come up with a mixture that should do the trick. The glow is perfect - I should look exactly like one of the supposed spirits the people of Ivarstead believe is haunting this barrow. Going to test it out tomorrow._

_4E 200, 29 Morning Star: Success! It worked better than I could have imagined. All I had to do was wander about the entrance to the barrow at night and wave my arms about. I had to stop myself from laughing aloud as they ran away. This should keep them at bay while I continue searching for the claw._

_4E 200, 11 Hearthfire: Almost half a year has passed and no sign of the claw or any clues as to its whereabouts. This is becoming maddening. It has to be here! Can't risk hiring any assistance, so I'll have to continue alone._

_4E 200, 20 Sun’s Dusk: It isn't here. It can't be here. This isn't right. It must be the people of Ivarstead...they must be on to my ruse, and they're toying with me. They want to find the burial chamber on their own and keep the riches for themselves!_

_4E 200, 18 Evening Star: Why? Why are they tormenting me? Why not just destroy me? I'm...who am I? My head is becoming clouded, I can't remember anything. I have to read my journal to remember my purpose. Am I a part of this tomb? Am I meant to guard it? What's becoming of me?_

_1E 1050: ...They shall not take my treasure. They shall all pay dearly for their crimes. Any who set foot within these walls will taste my wrath, my power. I am the guardian of Shroud Heart Barrow! All who oppose me will fall..._

You supposed that was enough investigating, and returned to Wilhelm.

* * *

“I found this in Shroud Hearth Barrow,” you said, handing Wilhelm the journal.

He flipped through the pages. “I can’t believe this...It was all just a fabrication of the Wyndelius character? I can’t believe we were so stupid. Well, the least I can do is give you something for taking care of him. If you won’t accept it as payment, consider it a gift,” he said, handing you a giant sapphire dragon claw, like the one for Bleak Falls Barrow, but blue.

“Thank you,” you said, and headed back to the barrow.

* * *

You opened the heavy iron door, to another hall of stories. At the end was another door with rotating rings with images on them.

You looked at the claw, and put in the proper combination.

_Moth. Owl. Wolf._

The door opened, and you continued on. After going up even more winding stairs, first, to a chest, then onto the main hallway. It was full of traps, and you had to pull Lydia aside more than once before she stepped on a triggerplate. You ran into some skeletons, who were all in a big divot in the floor full of oil. You used some of your limited magic knowledge to set the oil on fire, and the skeletons burned.

Then the draugr started to appear.

You fought them off, Lydia not helping as much, and found a key on one of their bodies. You used it to open the door, which led you to a room with another puzzle. This one had pillars with various animal symbols. In the room behind them, you had Lydia step on the triggerplate as various walls rotated around the room, revealing the order the pillars were supposed to go.

_Whale. Eagle. Snake. Whale._

You set the pillars up accordingly, and then pressed the button on the floor. A new gate opened up, leading you to the Shroud Hearth Depths.

As soon as you walked into the main hall, the gate behind you closed, separating you and Lydia. 

You were on your own.

The first wave was skeletons, which you defeated easily enough. Then draugr—harder, but nothing you couldn’t handle. 

Then came the draugr overlord.

You swung your warhammer as fast as you could, beating it back mercilessly. It landed a few hits on you, but soon its skull was bashed in and its glowing eyes faded to dull sockets.

Behind it was another word wall. You approached, getting used to the blue energy as it surrounding you, as your mind expanded. 

The gates opened, and Lydia rejoined you. You continued back up to Shroud Hearth Barrow, and went through a secret exit that brought you back to Wyndelius’s room. From there, it was easy enough to get back to Ivarstead. 

It was time to climb up to High Hrothgar and meet the Greybeards.


	27. 7,000 Steps

After a quick power nap at Vilemyr Inn, you headed to the base of the mountain, Klimmek’s supplies over your shoulder. You decided to change things up and brought out the Scimitar you stole from Kematu’s body, and read the first etched tablet.

_Emblem I_

_Before the birth of men, the Dragons rules all Mundus._

_Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs;_

_For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land._

After that you truly began the climb up the mountain.

* * *

You immediately ran into a frostbite spider. After killing it with your scimitar, you met a wanderer by the name of Barknar at the second tablet.

“Keep an eye out for wolves if you’re headed up the path to High Hrothgar.”

“Yeah, I heard. Did you hear the Greybeards call ‘Dovahkiin’?”

“I did. Strange days when the monks will do that. I wonder what it means.”

“So, what are you doing?”  


“I like to spend time up here. Walk the Steps, mediate on the emblems. Doesn’t hurt when I bag some game along the way.”

Curiously, you asked him, “Do you ever visit the Greybeards?”

“They're not the sort to take visitors, but I never go that high up the path anyway. Some folk who make the trip leave them food or other essentials, but not to make conversation.”

Disappointed, you continued on your way. You finally came to the second etched tablet.

_Emblem II_

_Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus._

_The Dragons presided over the crawling masses._

_Men were weak then, and had no Voice._

You found an ice wraith and an ice wolf fighting, and let them nearly destroy each other before getting involved and killing them both.

As revenge for the hit the ice wraith got on you, you collected its teeth.

By the third tablet, the rain had turned to snow.

_Emblem III_

_The fledgeling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times,_

_Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices._

_But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts._

Another ice wraith, and you reached the fourth tablet, which had a Nord woman sitting in front of it.

“Did you hear the Greybeards call ‘Doavhkiin’?” you asked, seeing what she had to say.

“I was just outside Ivarstead when it happened. It's an exciting moment. Nothing like this has happened in centuries.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Karita, and I’m just a pilgrim. I’d prefer to leave it at that, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well, Karita. What are you doing?”

“Walking the Steps. Meditating on the emblems. I make this trip every few years.”

_Emblem IV_

_Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man._

_Together, they taught Men to use the Voice._

_Then Dragon war raged, Dragon against Tongue._

You continued on up the mountain, where you encountered a frost troll. This one was harder to kill than the regular troll you had faced, and you had to resort back to your warhammer, dropping Klimmek’s supplies.

You hoped there was nothing breakable in there.

After a good battle, the troll soon fell to your warhmamer, and you made your way to the rest of the tablets.

_Emblem V_

_Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world,_

_Proving for all that their Voice too was strong;_

_Although their sacrifices were many-fold._

* * *

_Emblem VI_

_With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer_

_Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice,_

_Whilst the dragons withdrew from this World._

* * *

 

_Emblem VII_

_The Tongues at Red Mountain Went away humbled._

_Jurgen Windcaller began His Seven Year Meditation_

_To understand how Strong Voices could fail._

* * *

_Emblem VIII_

_Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned._

_The 17 disputants could not shout Him down._

_Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the world._

* * *

_Emblem IX_

_For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name;_

_Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar._

_They blessed him and named him Dovahkiin._

* * *

_Emblem X_

_The Voice is worship._

_Follow the inner path._

_Speak only in True Need._


	28. The Way of the Voice

As you reached the top, you delivered Klimmek’s supplies in the supply chest.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door to High Hrothgar.

An older priest in hooded robes approached you immediately. “So...a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age,” he said.

“You call me Dragonborn,” you replied. “What does that mean?”

“First, let us se if you truly are Dragonborn. Let us have a taste of your voice.”

You stood back, and shouted, _“Fus!”_ in his direction. The priest stumbled back as energy surged in his direction.

“Dragonborn,” he said, recovering quickly and folding his hands. “It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?”

“I want to find out what it means to be Dragonborn.”

“We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you.”

“You mean I’m not the only Dragonborn?” you asked, confused.

“You are not the first. There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed the gift upon mortalkind. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age...that is not ours to know. You are the only one that has been revealed thus far. That is all I can say.”

“Very well,” you said. “I’m ready to learn.”

“You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your voice into a Thu’um, a Shout. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons.Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made u of three Words of Power. As you master each word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you _Ro_ , the second Word in Unrelenting Force. _Ro_ means ‘Balance’ in the dragon tongue. Combine it with _Fus_ —‘Force’— to focus your Thu’um more sharply.”

You walked over to Master Einarth, who shouted _Ro_ loudly. Like when you were at a word wall, you felt your mind expanding and blue energy surrounded you.

You returned to Master Arngeir.

“Learning a Word of Power is only the first step. You must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon’s life force and knowledge directly. As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of _Ro._

Purple energy surrounded you this time, and you felt a deeper connection to the dragon language.

“Now, let is see how quickly you can master your Thu’um. Use your Unrelenting Force Shout to strike the targets as they appear.”

You walked to the centre of the room.

Master Einarth Shouted something you didn’t understand, and a grey apparition of a Greybeard appeared. You Shouted _“Fus Ro!”_ a few times at it, getting progressively more confident. 

After returning to your spot in front of Master Arngeir, he said, “Imressive. Your Thu’um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn.” You bowed your head in thanks. “We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri.”

Following Master Borri into the courtyard, Master Arngeir continued to talk. “We will now see how you learn a completely new Shout. Master Borri will teach you _Wuld_ , which means ‘Whirlwind’. You must hear the word within yourself before you can project it into a Thu’um.”

Glowing orange runes appeared on the snow-covered ground, casting a bright light in the darkness of the mountain. It was obviously dragon language, like on the word walls, and you absorbed the knowledge readily.

“Approach Master Borri, and he will gift you his knowledge of _Wuld_.”

The same purple energy surrounded you as you learned the power behind the Word of Power.

Next, you tried out your Shout. When you shouted _“Wuld!”,_ you moved forward at the speed of lightning a fairly good distance.

You went back to Master Arngeir, who was shaking his head in amazement. “Your quick mastery of a new Thu’um...astonishing. I’d heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself...” He took a breath. “You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return.”

One more question tugged at your tongue. “Why are the dragons returning? Does it have something to do with me?”

“No doubt,” Master Arngeir said. “The appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident. Your destiny is surely bound up with the return of the dragons. You should focus on honing your Voice, and soon your path will be made clear.”

“Thank you, Master. I will continue my training.”

“Good. Then you will be ready for whatever lies ahead.”


	29. The Path to Windhelm

After returning to Ivarstead (and only stopping to catch your breath about seven times), you ran into some cultists, which instantly spelled trouble.

“You there—are you the one they call Dragonborn?” one asked.

“Yes, I am Dragonborn.”

“Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver. The true Draagonborn comes...you are but his shadow. When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!”  


And with that, the cultists raised their hands in defense, charging up spells that would likely tear you to pieces then reanimate your corpse. You leapt out of the way as they cast sparks at you. Pulling out your warhammer as Lydia brought out her sword, you lunged back into the fray.

You knocked in the head of one and the guards took care of the other. You guessed they weren’t to keen on stirring things up in their little town.

On the body of one of the cultists, you found a note labelled “Orders”.

_Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the false Dragonborn known as (Y/N) before they reach Solstheim._

_Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased._

Interesting.

You continued on your way back to Vilemyr Inn, telling Klimmek his supplies had been delivered when you got there. He gave you a charitable amount of gold in return.

Instead of retrieving the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, you decided it was time to channel your inner Nord and finally join the Stormcloaks.

Which meant it was time to head to Windhelm.

* * *

On the way, you met an orc who offered you some skooma. You traded in a good portion of gold for the dark purple liquid. Inhaling the scent left you feeling lightheaded, and you pocketed it for later.

Next, you discovered an abandoned prison of some sort. It was flooded badly, a layer of water a couple inches deep covering the floor.

You walked onwards, weapon drawn. Eventually, you came across a table with a note on it, a skeleton nearby.

_We can’t let the prisoners out, so either kill them or let them drown. Either way, all guards must evacuate as soon as possible. The stream is about to wash this whole fort into the river and I’ll be damned if I have to report one Legion death one under my watch. You have your orders!_

Next to another skeleton was another note. You opened it up, and it appeared to be a plan of some kind.

_The storm is coming., I can tell. The water leaking has become stronger. There’s no better time than now._

_When the storm hits, the guards will be scrambling with what to do with us. Amidst the confusion, we need to overpower the few that will be standing guard outside our cells and hold off the cell block entrance. We need only hold off until I can get one of their swords and break open the drainage grate in the corner of my cell. That’s where we’ll make our escape. Everyone move down river and we’ll try to find shelter there until the storm passes._

“Do the living walk among the dead?” a voice said. 

You sun around and your eyes widened as you saw the spectral appearance of a ghost. You swung your warhammer, satisfied that, despite it being only a spirit, your hammer made solid contact and the ghost fell with a groan.

Travelling through led to more skeletons and another couple of ghosts. You found a key, which opened the cells so you wouldn’t have to waste lockpicks opening them, and discovered a room full of books.

When you were done handing a mini library to Lydia for her to carry, you went back to one cell that had a drain pipe. You opened, finding a skeleton at the bottom, then climbed back up to Skyrim.

As soon as you got out, there was a knife at your throat.

“Alright,” the male Khajiit said. “Hand over all your valuables, or else.”

“Walk away. Now,” you said.

“I don’t think I will.”

“Fine,” you spat, and reached behind you.

Quick as lightning, you drew the scimitar you had on your belt and sliced across his throat. Blood gushed out, and in one last-ditch attempt to kill you, he lunged with his dagger.

You dodged quickly, and the Khajiit fell to the ground, choking on his own blood.

Once you passed a mill and ran into two bears, you discovered a little riverside shack. In a chest inside was a treasure map. You stored that away for later. In the meantime, the bed inside the shack looked incredibly welcoming, and you fell into its warm embrace.


	30. Joining the Stormcloaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been dead ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

As you beheld the sight of the stone city before you, you glanced at the stable that held the horses. They were a magnificent bay, and you desperately wished for a horse you could call your own. 

You opened one of the double doors and walked into the city, right into the middle of a heated conversation.

“You come here where you’re not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks,” said a Nord.

“But we haven’t taken a side because it’s not our fight,” a Dark Elf woman said.

Another Nord, this one a beggar, chimed in with his own opinion. “Hey, maybe the reason these grey-skins don’t help in the war is because they’re Imperial spies!”

The Dark Elf looked at him, shocked. “Imperial spies? You can’t be serious!”

“Maybe we’ll pay you a visit tonight, little spy,” the first Nord said. “We got ways of finding out what you really are.”

The Elf sighed and turned to you.

“Do you hate the dark elves? Are you here to bully us and tell to leave?”

You gave a dirty look to the two Nords watching you closely. “No, of course not. I have no qualms with you or your people.”

“You’ve come to the wrong city, then,” she said. “Windhelm’s a haven of prejudice and narrow thinking, unworthy of one such as you.” She held out her hand. “Savaris Atheron. And you?”

“(Y/N). Looked like those Nords were giving you trouble.”

“Nothing new there.Most of the Nords living in WIndhelm don’t care much for us. but Rolff is the worst by far.”

“Which one’s Rolff?” you said, cracking your knuckles.

“The one with the mustache and the hat. Angrenor’s the beggar. But let them be. They’ll get what’s coming to them. Anyway, Rolff likes to get drunk and walk around the Grey Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the morning. A real charmer, that one.”

One question still tugged at your mind. “Why would anyone think you’re a spy?”  


“Some of these Nords will come up with any excuse to despise us. And it isn’t just the Dark Elves they hate—they make a target of the Argonians as well. In fact, just about anyone who isn’t a Nord is fair game for their bullying. Be careful around them.”

While the Dark Elf hastily retreated back to her end of town, you walked past the two Nords, and spit at their feet. You passed Candlehearth Hall into the courtyard of the Palace of the Kings.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the doors and stepped inside.

* * *

“Balgruuf won't give us a straight answer,” said a large Nord wearing a large bear pelt to Ulfric, who was lounging on his throne.

“He's a true Nord. He’ll come around,” Ulfric replied.

“Don’t be so sure of that. We’ve intercepted couriers from Solitude. The Empire’s putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun.”

Ulfric raised an eyebrow. “And what would you have me do, Galmar?”

“If he’s not with us, he’s against us,” Galmar said.

“He knows that. They all know that.”

“How long are you going to wait?”

Ulfric paused. “You think I need to send Balgruuf a stronger message.”

“If by message, you mean shoving a sword through his gullet,” Galmar said, crossing his arms.

“Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would make a more powerful statement, don’t you think?”

“So we’re ready to start this war in earnest then?”

Ulfric raised a hand. “Soon.”

“I still say you should take them all out like you did Deadking Torygg.” 

“Torygg was merely a message to the other Jarls. Whoever we replace them with will need the support of our armies.”

“We’re ready when you are,” Galmar said, raising a fist to his chest.

“Things hinge on Whiterun. If we can take the city without bloodshed all the better. But if not...”

“The people are behind you.”

“Many, I fear, still need convincing.”

“Then let them die with their false kings.”

“We've been soldiers a long time. We know the price of freedom. The people are still weighing things in their hearts.”

Galmar looked frustrated. “What’s left of Skyrim to wager”

“They have families to think of.”

“How many of their sons and daughters follow your banner? We are their families.”

“Well put, friend. Tell me, Galmar, why do you fight for me?”

Galmar shared a look with Ulfric. “I’d follow you into the depths of Oblivion, you know that.”

“Yes, but why do you fight? If not for me, what then?”

“I'll die before elves dictate the fates of men. Are we not one in this?”

“I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil. I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight... because I must.”

Galmar nodded solemnly. “Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric. And that's why you will be High King. But the day words are enough will be the day when soldiers like us are no longer needed.”

“I would gladly retire from the world were such a day to dawn.”

“Aye. But in the meantime, we have a war to plan.” Ulfric turned to his steward. “Galmar thinks we should double our men in the Reach.”

The steward nodded. “A reasonable strategy.’

“And you, Jorleif?”  


“Well, sir, the hold of Falkreath is fairly vulnerable, and blocks the only road from Cyrodiil.”

“A good point, old friend.”

“To be sure, my lord, i am not skilled in the arts of war or military tactics/”

“But you’re able to see the whole in the parts, and for that, I’m grateful.

“As you wish, sir.”

Ulfric finally turned his attention to you. Only the foolish or the courageous approach a Jarl without summons...” he said. “Do I know you?”  


“I was at Helgen,” you said. 

“Ah. Yes. Destined for the chopping block, if I’m not mistaken.”

Swallowing your fear, you said, “I helped Ralof escape. He said you’d vouch for me.”

“Ralof’s alive? I hope that’s true. He’s a damn good man. But he hasn’t returned yet, so I’ll need to wait for his account. For now, speak with Galmar. I’m always looking for able fighters. Not everyone can say they made it out of Helgen. Seems we’re all branded villains these days...Anyway, so long as your criminal past stays in the past, and you fight for me with honour and integrity, we’ll welcome you into our ranks.’

* * *

 

You approached Galmar Stone-Fist, chin up and overall just trying to appear more confident than you felt.

“Hmm...” he said. “Helgen, eh? Ulfric told us quite the story. Ifyou madre it through all that, you’re likely worth something to me. But first, tell me. Why’s a foreigner want to fight for Skyrim?”

“Skyrim is my home,” you said with absolute certainty.

“Fair enough. But are you willing to die for your home?”  


“That’s why I’m here. I want to join.”

“Alright. But before I can put you to use, I need to know how much you can take. I have a little test for you.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me,” you said, clenching your fists.

“That’s what I like to hear. So long as you can back up those words with steel. I’m sending you to Serpenstone Island. If you survive, you pass. If you die, well, you weren’t going to be much use to me anyway.”

“What’s at Serpenstone Island?” you asked curiously, hand on your scimitar.

“It's where men have tested their mettle for ages. There's a strange rock formation, built by the ancients. Something about that place attracts the Ice Wraiths. You kill an Ice Wraith out there, and I'll have all the proof I need about you.”

“Fine. I’m off to kill that Ice Wraith. I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”


End file.
